Planet Terra
by Tenial
Summary: In a timeless, mayhavebeen, nonexistant episode of Battlestar Galactica, set during the First Season. No Cylons. Lost in Space.
1. Prologue

_Siu Nim Tao- Great little idea._

"**The best way to become a great writer is to have ideas that benefit your real story. The most fun and original way you can find those ideas is to write fanfiction."**

**-Author's Maxim**

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

NOTE: Because no long black bars are allowed for no apparent reason, I'll be using the letter 'i' in italics and underline to use as a breakaway. Thank you.

_i_

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

_**Prologue**_

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

There is that silence you cannot stand. It is not a killing silence, no; neither is it a numbing silence. It cannot kill, because silence is the absence of sound (and therefore of a living presence; and it cannot numb. Only a living or superiorly living being could kill; only something that can be felt can numb the body.

No, this silence belonged to a different kind of sense: boredom.

Ever since the last attack—this attack being set a year after their home planet had been nuked—and since they entered the indefinite spaces regions, nothing had happened. No Cylons, no Raiders, no enemy to attack them. No charts to guide them. Some on the ship had already started to say they were so lost that the Cylons themselves couldn't find them.

Cylons were massively intelligent… _things_. There was no definite recognition of humanity in them, other than they looked like humans. They were machines that the actual humans had created; machines that eventually turned against their masters.

Was it mere fate, chance, or predetermined circumstance that would bring up those horrid attacks on the home planet Caprica? The humans and the Cylons had peace for 40 years after a long war. But that did not seem enough; the Cylons came back and attacked when the entire human race least expected them.

But how could they know? They did not. And so it was that most of the human race had been destroyed.

_Most_ of the human race, that is. Were it not for those men and women aboard the Battlestar _Galactica_, no human would have had the chance to tell their tales.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

There was that silence. How was it that the _Galactica_ had finally found that silence? Was it chance? Fate? Predetermination? He speculated plenty on this idea of fate, especially in this present situation. Currently, they were lost in uncharted space and had received any kind of Cylon connectivity for two weeks.

Two weeks. No Cylons. Lost in space. Was this good?

_Could be…_

The old soldier laid down on his bunk, gazing up at the ceiling with visions in his mind. He imagined Cylons attacking just as he closed his eyes, or some 'accident' in the mess hall exploding in everyone's faces and resulting in sabotage. Any moment, Cylon agents could appear and break the ship apart with tyranny, mutiny, and revolt.

Two weeks… no Cylons.

And for two weeks, they had been delving deep into unknown space. Commander William Adama kept thinking something is going to get them in the dark; something. A new danger; a new threat—anything can get them. Why, though? Would the _Galactica _and all those following, the Colonials, be a threat to others?

Adama hypothesized two theories concerning the well-being of the entire universe (all galaxies, all solar systems, all planets, etc.). One theory, he theorized, said that while his universe was in disarray, everyone else's was perfectly alright or doing well. He just had to get out of his own universe, or redeem it.

His other theory stated that, perhaps with all the Cylons talking about 'God's choice' and all that, maybe other peoples are in the same situation with their own problems. What if an entire race is suffering extinction? Genocide? Adama conceived of every kind of problem that was different to his.

Adama, however, ended up with the hypothesis: that there is no knowing. As unknown as the space he was venturing into happened to be, so were the possibilities of life in that space (or relative spaces). He would simply have to known when he was supposed to know.

But two weeks… No Cylons. Lost in space.

Adama could imagine how everyone else in the colony was thinking.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

In the enlisted quarters of the _Galactica_, at this hour of sleep, some did not slumber. Some played a game of triad with themselves; others would just sit and think.

Lieutenant. Kara Thrace was meditating on the idea that she was bored. She wore easy clothing for bed, but right now served no purpose. She sat at the edge of her bun just gazing into the wall. She was thinking within her box.

So many days, no Cylons. So many days, no action. Kara felt wasted and bored. She wanted to do some action, but, without any Cylons, she felt wasted. No Cylons to hunt? She was bored.

During those two weeks, Kara tried not to relax too much. A cocky ace-pilot such as herself would not want to relax too much. Two weeks had passed; certainly Cylons or whatever would come after them now. The very thought was what kept her senses up; what kept her true spirit alive.

Kara made it a point to remind herself that she had to remain tough. If she didn't, she could cost everyone's lives. She had to keep aware that something could come. Something could happen.

Two weeks…

She needed a smoke.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

Elsewhere, while working on something that was already fixed, Chief Galen Tyrol was fiddling with a wrench and looking everywhere in the hangar; completely bored out of his mind. The crew was asleep in their racks. Why he was up? Even that thought befuddled him.

Was it the need to check up on this one Raptor he was 'fixing'? The Raptor was perfectly alright. Maybe it was due to the fact that he wanted to make sure it was safe and alright. He knew who flew it.

But even he decided it was out of boredom. He did not want to sleep; he wasn't tired. He was out here for his own good.

He made sure no one else was there. He did not want anyone to get any ideas that their chief was going soft because of his own privacy. That was the last thing Galen wanted; subordinates who questioned his authority. He would stay tough; tough enough to stay as the Chief.

As long as he could make sure the Raptor was alright.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

Elsewhere in the officers' racks, one officer, a drunkard, was at his desk drinking himself to Hack. Colonel Saul Tigh was known to be a wreck when it came to alcohol.

And so MUCH of it, too… so many memories, so many… strains. To see those images, to feel the pressure, made Tigh a very tense man to the point of, as it appears, being a drunkard. He was a good leader; but so many things were hard to deal with. He felt urge to climb into the battle every day; just to hide.

The worse part? Climbing out of the bottle. Yes, climbing out was harder than climbing it. You know why? When he got sober, he would have to deal with the embarrassment of hiding in the first place. It may not seem that way, for a drunkard, but the motives are sensible. Saul Tigh is a strict man in terms of regulations and honor, that, he considered himself a 'littering.'

Then, again, it goes back again. Drinking, 'littering'…

And it didn't help that Saul drank because he was bored.

Two weeks… no Cylons… lost in space…

He needed another drink.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

He could not believe he was out in the halls running. Captain Lee Adama was never on in the night. But, somehow, he found himself doing so.

He was the Commander Aerospace Group. The big cheese. The head honcho.

The commander's son.

Lee and his father, the Commander, always found themselves still a bit distant from one another. Contributive to the fact that both were so alike in many ways, many people could no understand that distance between them.

Lee always did his best to live up to his callsign, 'Apollo'. Apollo was one of the Gods. The God of Hunting. Lee was a great Viper pilot (well, not as great as Kara, but, very good a pilot), and he, well, 'hunted' Cylons. Yet Apollo was also the God of Healing.

Healing? Well, Lee has considered himself a good man, too. He made it a point to live up to honor and regulations, but made a statement on being a human being. He wanted the human race to survive. And by the Lords of Kobol he would do that.

But… it's been two weeks. Nothing has caused a change. No Cylons… Lost in space.

So, Lee ran the halls early, way before everyone else was up. He ran and ran.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

Somewhere behind the _Galactica_ lingered _Colonial One_. This ship was an important one. It had the President of the Twelve Colonies. It was there to escort her; and it was there to keep her safe with the _Galactica_.

But personal matters kept her awake. President Laura Roslin was sitting, awake, looking out the window and into space. Everyone else had gone to sleep or to complete maintenance of the ship's well-being.

What about her well-being? She was in pain. She was going to be in pain until she died. Would she live out the rest of her days idly, or treat each day as her last? She was determined to do so. Although she never chose to be President, she owed it to the late President, Adar, to keep the human race alive.

But how could she do that? Two weeks, no trouble. Two weeks, no Cylons.

Two weeks, no great pain. Oh, she knew it would come back to haunt her. She was just glad the pain left her for those long two weeks. She had to deal with a lot back when the Cylons did attack; and now, she could rest for a while.

Yet she could not let go. She still had to say, 'I'm the president, and I still have to lead these people. No matter what, I will uphold the Articles of Colonization with every fiber of my being.' Even in her state, she still had to say that.

Even now, she still had to say that.

Right now, she rested.

She was looking out the window, gazing at all the stars and space clouds drifting and blinking for what seemed like eternity. What pains did they have to endure? What responsibilities do they have to bear? She knew they had none of these. They were just energy and gas. She wished she could just be one thing.

Stars could live for thousands of years. She could only live for so little time.

Two weeks… No Cylons. Lost in space… no pain.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

Everyone who was not asleep or working on maintenance was deep in their own thoughts.

Dr. Gaius Baltar? He was not even on the _Galactica_, much less the conscious world at this time.

He was there, again. He was there, sitting on his favorite leather chair, in his house, on the lake where he felt little trouble take him by surprise or circumstance, back on the home planet Caprica. To be here right now caused him joy. He was in respite with himself. Gaius was a happy Gaius.

"_Does that please you, Gaius?_" she spoke.

Gaius smiled seductively. "Oh yes… but, I do wonder."

"_What do you wonder, my love?_" she asked.

"That… well, I do not hate what you are doing one bit; no, I love it utterly. But, morally and, well, personally, how could any women engage herself in such an oral activity to please her man, and enjoy it?"

His lover, the gorgeous and mysterious Number Six, chuckled as she wiped her lips and sat on his lap.

"_I guess it is because we women feel the urge to, you know, do so. Especially when we have such handsome and powerful men, such as yourself_."

Gaius did not feel answered. "But that does not sound reasonable, my dear."

"_Love has no reasons, Gaius_."

"And God? Would He approve?"

"_Why do you ask?_"

"Well, I ask out of personal curiosity and pleasure, really. I do not doubt God does not mind our love."

"_No… He disapproves when two questionable bodies join in sexual fantasy, really. Otherwise… we're in the clear, Gaius._"

Gaius kissed Six, and then they kissed some more. They were both avid lovers; the likes of which are very adulterous, yet sacred.

_iiii_

But to Lieutenant Felix Gaeta, who simply watched Gaius sitting in his chair in the lab on the _Galactica _hump the air, it was disconcerting.

"Um, Dr. Baltar?" he asked quite evasively.

Gaius almost jumped out his chair.

"Oh God!" he gasped, realizing where he was now. He looked at Gaeta. "What?"

Gaeta, trying to recover from those images of seeing him 'humping' the air, cleared his throat (in an attempt to recover) and stated: "Sir, may I ask what, um—well, can I ask off the record?"

Gaius blinked several times. "Why, of course, Gaeta. Wh-wh-what is it?"

Gaeta started to speak, and then quite nervously noticed Gaius at the hip area. Gaius noticed this in concordance to following Gaeta's gaze, and then quickly crossed his legs.

Gaeta started again, disregarding the rather large 'bulge'. But, then it seemed he started thinking to himself, and then he shook his head at the thought.

"Never mind, sir. I'm sorry for troubling you," Gaeta said, and then turned around to leave the lab.

Gaius just sat silently, nervously waiting for Gaeta to either fully leave or expectantly wait for his dreams to pop back into his head.

But then Gaeta came back.

"Actually, sir, I do want to request of something…" Gaeta started up.

Gaius then listened with open ears, interlocking his fingers and laying them on his lap; to seem attentive and to cover his 'bulge'.

"Yes, Gaeta?"

Gaeta was apparently nervous to ask, though, even in his military posture with his hands behind his back and his head up.

Then, Gaius felt that familiar hand on his shoulder and sensed that seductive voice in his ear.

"What could he ask for, Gaius?" Number Six asked. Unbeknownst to Gaeta, Gaius was haunted by the vision of a woman he once slept with; a woman he discovered to be a Cylon agent. Whether or not it was because of a chip or of his own mental manifestations, Six stayed with Gaius, both helping him and pleasing him.

Gaius heard, but made it look for Gaeta as though he was still listening.

"What is going through this officer's head as you sit there with an erection?" she asks. "Perhaps he is curious about his preference in sex… tsk, tsk, rather sad, really. But, what could he really want? Maybe he's questioning for more than his sexuality."

And Gaeta was still contemplating whether to say what he wanted to say or not.

So Gaius decided to egg him on to do so. "Do you need help with something?"

This seemed to help Gaeta. "Yes, sir, actually, I do need help with something."

"Are you too nervous to ask?"

Six chuckled. "Sex is always nerve wrecking for men who are still probably virgins."

"It's not that I'm nervous, as it is that I might seem odd at asking…" Gaeta seemed distracted by the fact Gaius was still cross-legged and 'bearing himself'.

Gaius sighed. "Gaeta, I know it may seem odd, but…" looking down at himself shortly before looking back at Gaeta. "But I am straight."

Gaeta's eyes widened. "Oh, no, no, no, sir, I wasn't asking at all about, _that_. Actually, I was wondering if… if you could test me for being human or a Cylon."

This struck Gaius like a bullet. Six laughed.

"Oh, my, my, I guess the boy is really bored," she mused. "Perhaps it is out of boredom over these two weeks?"

Gaius himself grew curious.

"Cylon?" he asked; "why would you want to question if you're a Cylon or not?"

Gaeta could not find a reasonable answer.

Gaius looked at him sensibly. "Bored?"

Gaeta nodded nervously.

"Ahh, I see—"

"But," Gaeta said, breaking his military posture; "It's not that I think I'm not a Human. It just want to know if I am or not. Just…"

"Out of boredom?" Gaius asked.

Gaeta could not bring himself to say so, but it seemed to Gaius that it was so.

Nevertheless, he did it anyway. He got Gaeta's blood and then put the sample through the computer.

**_BLING_**, the answer came out **GREEN**; he was Human alright.

Gaeta was relieved.

"Thank you sir, oh gods, thank you, sir…" Gaeta praised.

Six was standing next to Gaeta, looking at him quite amusedly.

"He's thanking you… for relieving of him. But, is it for the identity, or the entertainment?"

Gaius could not help but think of this as well. And he said nothing, but nodded his head and smiled.

Gaeta nervously chuckled, and then just as nervously headed for the door.

"Oh, uh, Gaeta," said Gaius.

Gaeta stopped just as he was going through the door, looking back at Gaius.

"How do you think everyone is reacting to these two weeks?" Gaius asked.

Gaeta thought for a moment.

"I believe everyone is tired of them, sir. No Cylons, lost in space… we are sitting ducks and we don't seem to be in danger, sir."

Gaius nodded. "Yes, that can be true…"

Six looked at Gaius, waiting for a better response from him.

"But…" Gaius continued. "You must be aware, we are in uncharted space. We may have no reason to believe there is no life out there, but we also have no reason to let our guard down in case there is."

Gaeta nodded. "I agree, sir." He motioned to leave. "Well, g'night, sir." And then left.

Gaius watched as the officer left, and then gazed back at the computer screen. **GREEN, GREEN**.

Six seated herself on Gaius' lap, wrapping her arms around him and caressing his head. She looked at the screen, and then at Gaius.

"Tell me, Gaius… what are you thinking right now?"

Gaius shrugged. "You should know, should you not?"

"Indulge me, dear."

"I think something is going to happen."

"Oh, now, do you? And what would make you say that, my sweet Gaius?"

"For two weeks, we've had no contact. On top of all, no Cylon contact. Now, either they are looking for us, waiting for us, or leaving us."

"Now… tell me, why would we leave you? We want to destroy you."

"I believe something in this space is waiting for us, and the Cylons are letting us drift to it. Something… different."

"Would it destroy you all?"

"Perhaps."

"Would you destroy it?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Otherwise, we would have had two weeks full of Cylon attacks."


	2. Morale Issues on the Galactica

_"Denny Crane... Trix are for kids."_

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

**_Morale Issues on _Galactica**

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

_Just keep running, Lee… Just run._

Lee kept his pace as he moved through the hallways of the ship's interior. He had made it all the way across to the front and decided to come back the same way, but go to the back end of the ship. He felt the urge to challenge himself.

Hey, he had run it many times in the past. Lee and Kara would run the entire ship on a daily basis together, shouting at passerbys who did not leave a clear way for them. They'd reply with a sneer and clear the way, or just clear the way and keep smart by staying quiet.

Some wouldn't stay quiet; some would even talk about the two for short moment. "Well, _they're_ pretty close, wouldn't you think?"

Of course they were. Of course they were.

In latter days, Lee's brother Zak and Kara were both affectionate to each other. Kara was Zak's flight instructor, and the two began a relationship. Lee had never met Kara until Zak introduced her. And, being very protective of his brother, Lee was very perturbed that his brother could foul up another relationship.

But not Kara. No, she was way different. Lee himself liked her when he first met her.

He still liked her.

It got more personal when the two were engaged. It was against regulations for two people such as Kara and Zak to be having such an affair. Lee was angered himself. He was always for regulations; he was Mr. Regulations.

Maybe that wasn't all. Maybe he knew that if both were found out, they would be punished severely; Kara most of all.

He wanted to be sure Kara would not have to pay for everything.

But the marriage never happened.

Zak died in a flight accident. The Adama family was heavily crushed at the loss of their son.

Kara almost spiritually died from the absence of Zak if it were not for William Adama, Zak and Lee's father. William had never met her until the funeral, but in such short time had come to be very close to her; and she to him. It was not an affair or a sexual relationship; more on the terms of a father/daughter relationship.

_Left or right?_

Lee came to a fork in the halls. Left: to CIC. Right: Officer's quarters.

Lee knew his father was down the right-way hall.

Lee went left.

Kara had a horrible family experience as a child; her father died and her mother was a torrid drunk. She disconnected from her own family and felt welcomed by the Adamas, of course she became very close to them.

And to have a father figure, William, around her made the post-funeral experience much easier for Kara. She joined the Battlestar _Galactica _to stay close to William, and to find a new life in the military.

As for Lee, he pretty much tried to stay as far away from his father as possible; which made Kara feel sorry for him. She sent a letter once to him, wishing he was stationed on the _Galactica _with her so that they would be the two Viper pilots everyone would be jealous of; the idols to work up to.

Lee forgot to reply back, and the two had not talked for two years.

_Wonderful CIC…_

Lee passed by CIC, where pretty much no one was working at the time. A lot of the lights were on, but, none of the consoles were operated.

But he noticed someone was in there. It made Lee's jogging pace slow down to a halt.

"Hello?" he said aloud.

The figure comprehended him.

"Captain," a voice replied. It was Lieutenant Anastasia Dualla, Petty Officer 2nd Class. She was up at the consoles, still checking them and making sure they were alright.

Lee stepped more into CIC to greet her. "Dualla! I—well, um, good morning."

Dualla nodded back. "Good morning, Captain." She was an attractive, short black girl who ran the _Galactica_'s communications and various minor CIC operations. For short, the Commander would refer to her as 'Dee'. Lee did the same, for regulations. But also because he felt that since his father did, he had to do so as well.

Lee, breathing deeply, bent over a bit, placing his hands on his legs. "What, um… what are you doing up? – and working?"

Dee replied very formally. "Checking up on the _Galactica_, sir; making sure she's alright even in our present situation."

"You mean the Cylon absence?"

"Yes, sir."

Lee, knowing that everyone on the ship was probably bored (and asleep right now), had to question Dee further. She was pretty much going by military formality and highly able to give straight answers quickly like a fast bullet in a dust storm.

Lee wondered how she would answer to his questions. He was personally interested.

"Who put you in charge during these hours?" he asked.

Dee had a short moment. Lee's eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"No one did, sir," she finally replied. "I just felt I was needed here, that's all."

Lee shrugged. "Well, it is not like there is anything to expect in these gods-forsaken space…"

Dee herself shrugged. "Just… pet peeves, I guess. I don't want to feel relaxed having our guard down, sir."

Lee nodded. "I can agree to that. You're a good officer, Dualla; great to have you with us."

Dee blinked, and then quietly became very chirpy in her personality. "Thank you, sir. I try my best."

Lee smiled. "If I may say, you do excellently well."

Dee smiled.

"I, uh," Lee began; "I'll just get my run done. I'll leave you to your _work_…"

Dee laughed. "Yes, sir."

Lee felt comfortable acting this way to Dee; he liked her.

"I hope you have a good run."

"Hey, hope you have a good watch." Lee winked.

Dee looked at her monitor to hide a smile. "Thanks, sir."

And with that, Lee ran off.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

Lee was just making his way past the enlisted quarters when he got stopped.

"Lee?" asked a woman's voice from behind.

Lee stopped and looked over his shoulder to see Boomer, or Lt. Sharon Valerii. She was a Raptor pilot who personally got to see what happened on Caprica during its nuking. Lee heard she was born on Aerilon, and so he presumed all Aerilians had slants in their eyes and adjustments of facial bone structure; but he couldn't place it one bit.

She was someone Lee heard someone describe as 'eager-to-please' from the ship's scuttlebutt people. When she fist came onto the _Galactica,_ they say she pretty much got into everyone's business to get along with them. She played triad, pyramid, and various other games, and talked excessively with everyone. She came out irritating.

But, they said Chief Tyrol didn't think so, and rumors said the two had an interregulation affair.

Lee was baffled to see her up.

"Boomer?"

"Yeah; Lee?" Boomer sounded distraught.

"What's up? Isn't it a little late—" Lee stopped himself short, remembering Dualla. "I mean, waddya need?" he could tell in her voice she needed something.

"Have you seen Chief Tyrol?"

"No, why?"

"Um, nothing," Boomer started to push away the issue herself.

"Wait, Boomer," Lee ushered, stopping his jogging in place. "What, why do you need to see Chief Tyrol?"

"It's really nothing, Captain, it's nothing," Boomer said, trying to avoid the issue (and getting defensive about it).

Lee was not put off by her defense. "Well, what is it, do you need his assistance on the Raptor or what?" he wanted to dodge the issue of the rumors and instead attempted to get a different issue (if there was, he thought).

"Yeah, yeah, I do," she said. "But, I guess it's nothing. It's the frakking gimbal again; it keeps malfunctioning and it gets the gyroscopes messed up."

"You haven't been by Tyrol's quarters?" Lee asked pre-mindedly.

"No, it's the middle of the night. If I tried waking him up, I'd wake everyone up. I don't really wanna be a nuisance, sir."

"This can't wait in the morning?"

"I guess it could."

"Well, there you go, Boomer, there's no need to worry about it. It'll get fixed— again. Trust me, Chief Tryol does the best at what he does."

Boomer nodded, lips pursed in a line. "Yeah, um… yeah, he is, I guess."

Lee wanted to be on his way. He smiled briefly, nodded his head, and began jogging—

"But, uh, sir," Boomer said, halting Lee.

Lee got back at a restful position, though really wanting to be on his way. "Yes, Boomer?"

"Why are _you_ up?" she asked; "and _running_?" she added in surprise.

"I, uh, felt the need to run. Haven't done so in a while, and I could not sleep."

"Last time I saw you run was just sixteen hours ago, sir," she said. "And that was late in the morning. It's still midnight."

"Like I said," Lee said insistently; "I was bored."

"Bored enough to run?"

"YES, Lieutenant, enough to run," Lee was getting anxious to get back at his running, now.

"Okay, but, um, aren't you afraid you'd unsettle a few people?"

"Well, you look like you've been up for a few hours yourself, I don't see anyone hovering around awake just because you are."

"I guess that's true, sir."

Lee sighed. "Look, I really wanna get back at my running, and—"

"Oh, I'm so sorry for—"

"You don't have to apologize."

"I know, but—"

"Nah, it's okay."

"Okay."

"Yeah."

"Well, have a good one."

"I'll try. Don't stay up too late, Lieutenant."

"I'll try not to, Captain."

And then they took leave of each other. Lee was going towards the back of the ship. Where Boomer was going, Lee had no idea. Right now, he just wanted to run.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

The hatch opened and in came Hotdog, half-awake and looking like a zombie.

"Um, sir?" he asked.

Kara looked at him quizzically. "Yeah, what is it?"

"What was that?"

"…what was what?"

"That loud shout I just heard. Was that you?"

"Pfft, can't say it was."

"Well, it kinda sounded like you."

"And you think it was me 'cause…?"

"Well, you said 'boot-licking frakking whore' several times, and, uh, it appears you just lost a game at triad with your own clothes."

Kara had in fact set up a game of triad with herself, a pair of trousers, a uniform jacket, and a pair of boots. The boots seemed to be winning.

"Is that a problem?"

Hotdog blinked. "I guess not, sir."

"Wanna join? Enough for a belt buckle and a cigar," Kara herself was smoking a stogey and very amused with her 'genius' at that.

"Nah, nah," Hotdog said, chuckling; "I'm alright. I still wanna keep my clothes; unlike that game we had a few days ago."

Kara now had an evil grin on her face and giggled to herself as she looked at her cards. "Yeah, that was a good one. Still missing your underwear?"

"Yeah, uh, I hope they're, uh, to your 'satisfaction', sir."

"Yeha; I used them to clean up the hull of the ship the other day."

"Oh… well, _shit_, sir, you found a use."

"Always do. Now, is that all you wanted, or are you gonna join me in a game of triad?"

Hotdog shrugged. He came in (the hatch closed behind him) and took a seat next to the trousers, minding not to look into them.

"Hey," he said to them, still in his sleepy state.

Kara giggled. "Hope you're in the mindspace, Hotdog. Wouldn't want ya to lose your brain cells by accident."

"I've had enough demoted by hours of sleep; deal me in, sir."

Kara licked her lips and puffed her cigar anxiously. This was going to be fun.

They played two hands (Kara won both times) before there was a knock on the hatch, and Kara said in a monotone 'open!'. In popped Hoover's head, looking like a zombie herself.

"Sir, what's going on?"

"Private Nova! Welcome, welcome, wanna join us?" spoke Kara, like some announcer on a pyramid game.

Perplexed by both sleep and Kara's enthusiasm, Hoover stepped in and joined, sitting next to the jacket. "Oh, um, okay… who's winning?"

"The damn boots. I'm second; Hotdog's still last," Kara said, throwing no look at Hotdog but grinning evilly.

"Hey, you cheated that last hand, sir."

"'You cheated that last hand, sir!'" mimicked Kara, imitating the sleepiness and complaint in Hotdog's voice, while adding some vulgarity to it with an overuse of the lips. "Yeah, yeah, losers, whiners; winners, grinners!"

They played a few more hands—now with Hoover at the table—when three more guys came, inquiring about the noise developing from this room. Of them were Private Squall 'Jigger' Viggens, and Nuggetman.

Kara was surprised to see Captain Marcus 'Nuggetman' Libertus. He had a very rigid look all about him, seeming like a huge rock. Kara suggested his callsign be 'Rocker', but it ended up being 'Nuggetman', on account of the fact he was the only nugget who had been trying to be a pilot for almost a year. Pretty interesting dude; kept mostly to himself.

The third guy was a Major; Major David Duffnull. She was also surprised to see a _Major_; but, then again, she was surprised to find herself playing triad with her clothes in the middle of the night.

After a dozen hands, everyone's senses began waking up and getting into a more energetic mood. It got so bad that they decided to move the game into the mess hall. They were careful to be quiet, though many had the urge to suddenly shout and wake up the entire hallway. Kara threatened to give them demerits if they made a noise loud enough to wake everyone up.

But they succeeded to the mess hall and continued their game. This allowed more room, and more chaos.

After a few hands, it got pretty wacky…

"Get off the damn table, Jigger!" laughed Hoover as Jigger started dancing victoriously on the table they were playing triad on.

Kara was unashamed for losing the hand. She admitted that she cheated badly that time.

"I can't help it; I guess I'm Hermes!" Jigger chuckled.

"Yeah, well, could Hermes get off the table?" mused Hover.

"Yeah, please! You're messing up my sexuality!" laughed Hotdog.

"It's in the saramins, man; the saramins," joked Jigger.

"Saramins my ass," chuckled Hotdog. "Get off the table before I fend you off with some money."

They continued their bouts and their funny exchanges during the game, having fun and basically trying to disremember that they were all lost in space.

"Lost in space and still havin' fun," murmured Nuggetman, to himself.

The people around the table laughed slightly.

"Yeah, I know," said Kara. "It's very long and dubious."

"You know, we're lost in space, and we don't get any kind of Cylon contact," Hotdog said. "Ain't that weird?"

"Kinda."

"What do you think they're up to?" asked Hoover.

"Don't know, don't care," groaned the Major as he looked at his cards. "Probably having a vacation themselves." He was a young Major, although he acted like a premature Colonel Tigh. Kara was worried and cautious about him.

"You think we're on vacation?" Hoover inquired.

"_I_ say we are," Jigger said. "Frak me, two weeks? With nothing happening at all? I'm _glad_ we're out here."

"But what if nothing happens for a month?"

Jigger said something under his breath, but then nervously chuckled and said, "Well, um, I dunno."

"No one knows, boys," said Kara. "And let's get off the issue on Cylons; you make me wanna take my Viper and fly around the damn ship. Now, come on, let's play triad."

Everyone actively agreed.

"Triad!"

"Hell yeah, baby."

"Let's do it!"

"Deal me in, baldy."

"Actually, _I'm _dealing, Hotdog."

"Whatever."

"No, it's _not_ 'whatever'. Girls have the most awesome hair; it's Jigger who doesn't have hair."

"Damn straight!"

"You boys crack me up."

"Anything to please you, Starbuck."

"I wouldn't go that far, Jigger; you still playing with your right hand?"

"Hey, ME and my RIGHT HAND are none of your business, sir."

"Jerking the joystick a lot?"

"Come on, Starbuck, don't pick on ole Jigger. He don't jerk; he jigs!"

"Very funny, Hotdog, very funny."

"That's actually kinda funny!"

"You've got a sweet sense of humor, Hoover."

"Glad ya like it, Jig."

"Anytime, sweetheart."

"Anyplace, handsome."

"Loverbirds! Put your chips in!"

"You gotcha… cutie."

"Hey, watch your mouth, Viggens."

"Sir, I was only kidding—"

"It wasn't funny."

"Come on, Major, no need to get touchy!"

"Yeah, yeah, right."

"Sir, um, please, just deal the cards."

"Mm-hmm."

And this kind of conversation kept on for an hour or two after midnight. Everyone began getting tired again, and also a little touchy towards one another. Arguments started to build up around the game. Most of them were started by the Major.

"You cheated!"

"Man, I was fair and square; you just ain't lucky!"

"Private, I wanna see those cards."

"What for, Major?"

"To see if they're real or not!"

"Sir, come on!"

"Boys, calm down, will ya?"

"Stay outta this, you subordinate bitch."

"Oh no you did NOT—"

"Yeah I did!"

"Don't call her that!"

"Shut yourself up, Constanza!"

Kara herself was getting a little touchy, but only because everyone else was getting mad at each other for no reason. She tried to cool down the fights.

"Boys! Keep the chatter down!" she said.

"Lieutenant, they've been cheating all night long!" exclaimed the Major, now standing up irately.

"Have not!" cried Hoover.

"You've been cheating, sir!" accused Jigger.

"Shut up, you black!" cursed the Major.

Jigger got upset. "What did you just say?"

Nuggetman got in between the two just before they got nose-to-nose with each other, fending them off of each other. "Hey, sirs! Sirs, calm down!"

"You defendin' him!" gasped Jigger.

"Ya, try me now!" sneered the Major. "I bet you hate it when whitetones get the better of you blacktones?"

Jigger got upset at that. And so did Nuggetman; more so than Jigger. He nudged Jigger away and glared at the Major.

"You better take that back, sir."

The Major would have been baffled under normal circumstances, but with the rising frustration, he actually took this as a challenged and welcomed it. "Oh? And why should I, _captain_?"

"Because you're a _major_ asshole, sir!"

That was when the Major started laying down the blows on Nuggetman.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

_BONK, BONK!_

The Master-at-Arms, Sergeant Vera Hadrian, was awoken by the sound of knocking on her hatch door. Quite perplexed by the intensity of the knock, she thought a Cylon was trying to break down the hatch door.

Quickly, she got her robe about her, and then hastened to the door. Opening it, she discovered Dualla, the CIC Petty officer, looking very awake; more than Hadrian.

"Sergeant!" she exclaimed.

"What is it?" Vera asked; she could tell trouble was afoot.

"There's a fight in the mess hall!"

_Frak me!_

"In this hour?"

"I dunno how but—"

"Never mind; how many?"

"Four officers, two enlisted; including Lieutenant Thrace and Captain Adama."

"Gods… lemme get the Marines on their feet."

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

_KNOCK, KNOCK_

Adama was already awake before the knock was even made. He had been awake for a long time. He did not feel like sleeping. He felt like reading and pouring over his thoughts and memories that he had been receiving these past months. Sometimes he wondered if he ever would find this planet Earth he said he would find. He wondered if there was no more hope in the men.

Adama acknowledged the knock. "Who is it?"

"Sir, it's Gaeta."

"Enter."

Gaeta entered, looking a bit tense.

"What's the matter, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, there's been a fight in the mess hall."

"…and?"

"Well, Major Duffnull was involved in the fight."

"What was he doing in the mess hall?"

"It appeared several enlisted men and officers got together for a secret triad game; they got into an argument, and got into a fight. The game was headed by Starbuck, sir."

_Ahh. Shoulda figured._

"I see."

"Sir, they're all in the brig waiting for a final sentance."

"Well, I should thank you for the report, should I? Or did you want to personally tell me?"

"Sir, no, um… well, your son was in the fight."

_Lee?_

Adama did not expect that at all. Not at all.

"I just… thought it would be better if I came personally."

Adama was very stunned. Even infuriated.

"That'll be all, Lieutenant. I'll visit the troublemakers… personally."

"No, sir, your son—"

"What's going on?"

A voice in the hall came out. Both men turned to see it was Colonel Tigh. He was half drunk and curious.

"A fight has just occurred in the mess hall," Adama said, just as he began getting into uniform.

"A fight!" repeated Tigh. "Over what, a triad game?"

"Exactly, sir," said Gaeta; "how did you know?"

"It's just back in my day we had triad game fights during the night, too," Tigh said without a pause.

"Oh."

"Yep," uttered Adama as he got his belt on.

"Was this Starbuck's doing?" Tigh said immediately.

"She was in the fight, sir," said Gaeta.

"I suspect it's all her doing, I suppose."

"Major Duffnull was involved," Adama said firmly.

"_Duffnull_!" gasped Tigh.

"I'm going to the brig," Adama said just as he finished buttoning.

Tigh blinked. "To the brig?"

"Yes, you heard correct, Colonel."

"What for, for Starbuck? You're not going to bend your neck over for her _again_, are you, Commander?"

"That's not the issue."

"Then what is?"

Adama got his spectacles on and proceeded to the door without a word. Tigh could tell he was making haste to the brig.

Tigh didn't say anything. He presumed Starbuck was the issue.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

"Thanks for the 'bar', Major; I always wanted to be a corporal…" murmured Jigger as he ran his fingers across the steel bars of his brig cell. Each trouble maker was put into a cell

"Shut up, private."

"You both better not quarrel again, now," warned Hotdog. "We can't have another fight going on."

"At least _you _of all people helped by watching the whole damn thing…" groaned Hoover, lying on her stomach on the bunk and resting her face in her palms.

"Hey, I didn't want to get in trouble, okay?"

As the hotheads argued, Lee just sat at the edge of his bunk in disbelief. Kara was leaning up against the bars in the corner jutting out from the wall, with her arms crossed.

"Frak, frak, frak…" moaned Lee.

Kara said nothing.

Lee looked at her quizzically, suddenly becoming mad. "What were you _thinking_?"

Kara looked back in disbelief. "Ex_cuse _me, Lee?"

"What were you thinking; playing a triad game in the middle of the night?"

Kara scoffed. "I _felt _like a little fun, huh? Come on, Lee, don't give me that."

"I at least was doing something productive. What were you doing; playing triad with overtired people? Do you realize how stupid that was?"

"Alright! Gods!" rebutted Kara, getting defensive. "I didn't realize you 'knew' about the whole 'concept' of triads and sleepy people, Lee! I _wish_ I had ya there with me before!"

"_You_ should have known, then, I guess," Lee said sharply.

Kara glared at Lee, quite pissed at him right now.

Before she said anything, though, the Master-at-Arms had announced:

"Commander present!"

Immediately, every noise in the entire brig went dead silent. Everyone's attention was at the door, where stood Commander Adama, looking completely emotionless in the face. But everyone could tell; he was shocked.

Lee felt quite humiliated, and Kara felt disgraced.

Adama looked at them all, not saying a word. He just looked at them; disbelief, shock— even anger. He looked tired, as though he had not slept at all as well. To be honest, everyone looked like the undead at this point. But to see Adama was much worse.

It seemed like forever that he held them all in his gaze, remaining silent… everyone grew nervous, and wondered what was going to happen next.

Lee thought—

"How… could something…" Adama suddenly started. "…so small, and so tedious… happen to cause chaos on my ship this morning…"

Everyone was baffled by his response, expecting him to get boisterous with fury and—

"**And among** **OFFICERS**!" he suddenly yelled at them, eyeing the Major especially. He even cast a quick glance at Kara.

He didn't look at Lee at all.

The enlisted men watched in nervous tension as they waited for him to drop the bell on them.

And Adama looked at them. "Your superiors are going to punish you severely for this. To see such talented and hardworking subordinates clash immorally and _STUPIDLY_ is not only an infringement on the morale of the company… but also on their judgment. Including mine."

Again, there was that debase silence that left them all to their thoughts, causing them to feel terrible about themselves.

"Private Nova and Private Viggens, you both will be serving detention in the brig for thirty days. I want to see you officers personally in the hall."

Both privates didn't seem enthused at all, but at least they were not nearby the Major.

Sergeant Hadrian released the Officers and allowed Commander Adama to communicate with them in the hall.

They stood in a row, at attention.

Adama looked at each one. He seemed to be controlling himself, now, seeming less angry, and calmer. He wanted to treat the officers differently.

"Major Duffnull, what were you doing up in the middle of the night playing a card game?"

"Sir, Starbuck was hosting what seemed to be a fun triad game. I was… unable to sleep, and I felt that I needed a break from… doing nothing, sir."

Adama's lips were pursed. "I see… who started the fight?"

The major was hesitant to answer. "I did, sir."

Adama actually didn't look surprised at all. "Mm-hmm…" he looked at Kara. "Did anyone try to stop the fight?"

Kara responded: "Sir, Captain Libertus and myself tried to stop the fight."

"Captain Libertus?" Adama inquired, now looking upon Nuggetman.

"Sir, he provoked me," said the Major.

"The Major openly and blatantly insulted Privates Viggens and Nova, and goaded Captain Libertus," said Hotdog.

"I did not ask you, Lieutenant Constanza," Adama said.

"I apologize."

Adama looked at the Major. "Had you consumed any alcohol beforehand, Major?"

The Major was still.

"Major?" Adama insisted hard.

"Sir… I had."

"I see…" Adama looked at Libertus, and then finally took his first look at Lee. Not saying anything, he look at the Major.

"Major Duffnull, you are demoted to Captain," Adama said flatly. "Taking your place will be Captain Libertus."

Major's face went placid, and Libertus' eyes went slightly wide.

"_Captain _Duffnull will assume the position of assisting the CAG, while _Major _Libertus now has responsibility to instructing officers and assisting Colonel Tigh," Adama made recognition gestures to both men.

"Lieutenant Constanza," he looked at Hotdog. "You are sentenced to repainting the _Galactica_. Lieutenant Zimmers will assist you.

"Lieutenant Thrace and Captain Adama…" he looked at the two of them. "Will be sentenced to the brig for a week. That is all."

And with one more look at Lee, the Commander dismissed everyone. Then, after he called for Sergeant Hadrian to bring in Kara and Lee, he left to assume his role in CIC.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

After Captain Duffnull left, Hotdog looked at Kara.

"Sir, um… I'm—"

"Just get to your rack," she said, sounding firm and cold.

Hotdog jittered and then nodded. "Yes, sir…" and then left.

Sergeant Hadrian escorted the two officers back to their cells, and then posted Private Kelso and Corporal Venner to watch them; and then left for her quarters.

Everyone was dead quiet for the longest time. It was almost time for everyone else to report for duty. But those in the cells were not going to duty.

Lee had gotten into school fights when he was younger, and his father somewhat looked down upon this; even when he was divorced from Lee's mother. However, Lee had never seen his father's reaction to him fighting. But it made Lee angry that his father did not even bother asking why he was in the fight.

Lee was running by when he heard the fight, and got Dee to search for the Master-at-Arms while he was busy cooling down the fight. He got several bruises from Duffnull, who turned his attention to him immediately when Lee intervened. He also smarted Duffnull several times.

Kara tired to help, but Lee tried to push her out of the fight. He realized he was probably foolish; Kara was one of the toughest fighters on the entire ship. And he probably offended her.

Lee, in his cell, looked at Kara who was in her bunk trying to sleep.

"Kara…" he whispered.

Kara didn't respond.

"Kara…" he tried again, louder.

Nothing.

Well, that won't work anymore. So, Lee decided to talk to himself. He presumed everyone but the guards were asleep.

"I'm sorry about before, Kara. I was very distracted by Duffnull that I…" Lee knew a part of him was probably making up a story. "I felt I wanted to take him on myself. I knew you would have totally kicked his ass…" he added a light chuckle.

Kara was still silent.

Lee frowned. "I'm also sorry for yelling at you." He felt bad about that; really bad. It was in his nature to discipline, but found it hard to discipline Kara; especially when he did not know the whole situation at that moment. "It… I was just mad… and I was wrong."

Silence.

Lee sighed. He said no more. 'It's no use,' he thought. 'Everyone is tired.' and then went to sleep.


	3. Old Pings

_Spring was never waiting for us, dear!_

_It ran one step ahead as we followed in the dance._

_Between the parted pages and were pressed_

_In love's hot fevered iron like a striped pair of pants._

_-'MacArthur Park'_

_Jimmy Webb_

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

_**Old Pings**_

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

_Frak!_

"Sir, are you alright?" gasped Cally.

Tryol clenched his knuckles slowly in response to landing on his fist, and then freely flicked them in exuberance. That really hurt, but he was glad nothing felt broken.

"Sir?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Cally," he assured her.

"Thank gods!" she exclaimed.

Tyrol looked at her. He was inquisitive about her, lately. She seemed to act differently.

Specialist Cally Henderson, the deckhand, shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "Just worried, sir. We couldn't do without both your hands, sir."

Tyrol managed to find humor in that. He smiled and chuckled. Cally lightened up and smiled herself.

"It's been one heckeva two weeks…" he murmured.

"Yes, sir."

He then took a long look at his semi-finished project: a Viper Simulator. Lieutenant Thrace had been demanding for one for a long while; the nuggets were almost destroying Galen's Vipers. Both knew they would be pissed if their limited Vipers were busted by _nuggets_. The Chief and Cally both had been working on it since 0712 hours; it was now 8:30.

Cally herself was keeping a clipboard and a list of things the two were overlooking on the Simulator; demo programs, flight situations, battle scenarios, leadership decision missions— the works. The programs seemed to be alright; it was operating the frakking thing that was causing the problem. Tyrol was just fixing a few technical problems under the Viper Simulator machine when he got up, stumbled and fell on his hands. One of them happened to be clenched in a fist.

Tyrol started rubbing the hand he was clenching. _I'll probably get Dr. Cottle to look at it… ach—that smarts._

"How's everything under there, sir?"

"It's okay. Not better, but not worse."

"What's the main problem?"

Tyrol sighed. "The main problem is that I can't get it to frakken do what it's supposed to do when turned on— turn on."

Cally's face went pale. "So, all those programs we've been working on those past weeks—"

"Oh, no, no, no," Tyrol assured. "Those programs are _fine_. They're logged in the memory; they'll be there alright."

Cally was relieved, wiping her forehead. She personally helped program those files.

"That's good!"

"Yeah, it is," Tyrol twitched when he tried locking his fingers. "It'll be way better if we could get the damn thing to work."

Cally noticed him flinch. "Are you alright, sir?"

"Huh?" he looked at her.

"Is your hand alright?" she said, pointing her pen at the hand he injured

He pursed his lips as he tried twisting his fingers again. "It's touchy. I'll get Dr. Cottle to look at it."

"You should probably get it checked now, sir, with all do respect."

He shook his head. "Nah, I can still use it; I'll see Cottle later."

"NO, sir," Cally said, getting a little overworked; "please, get it checked."

Tyrol looked at her again. Why was she acting so… compassionate towards him?

"Specialist, I'm fine," he said, firmly. "Now tell me what else we have left on the list."

Cally paused for a moment. She then blinked her eyes numerous times, and then got back onto the checklist.

"Well, we've got nothing left. Except for those kinks you keep coming across; not turning on, turning off all of a sudden, emitting a buzzing sound. The only other thing left is the, uh, wha? The _music_…" she looked at the word carefully.

"What?" Tyrol looked over Cally's shoulder, grabbing the edge of the clipboard and placing his thumb on the line that said 'Music……… Yes/No'.

"What frakking music?" he cursed.

"I believe that was Starbuck's suggestion."

Tyrol shook his head. "She thinks this is an arcade game…"

"I believe so, sir."

"…well, I don't have any kind of taste for music whatsoever."

"Well, I kinda played band while in school— but, um… that didn't work out."

Tyrol didn't inquire about that issue. He deduced that the band members were probably more sexually active than rabbits at that point in her life.

_Funny notion, though._

"Hmm… who else has a good taste for music?" Tyrol thought aloud, discarding his disbelief at Starbucks incredulity.

"Well, Starbuck does, obviously," said Cally.

"Need help, Chief?" said a familiar voice behind the two crewmembers.

Both turned around to see a face they had seen so many times before. A face Tyrol had seen so up close, so intimately.

It was Sharon.

"Sir," Tyrol acknowledged her. "We've got this handled."

Sharon didn't budge. "No, seriously, what's the problem?" she was insistent that she get involved.

Tyrol knew she wouldn't go away at this rate;he really wanted her to.

"It is none of you concerns, I believe, Lieutenant. Aren't you supposed to be with Racetrack?"

"Why would I—" she thought for a second, and then realized it at last. "Oh, right… well, Racetrack's not around, and I have nothing else to do."

"Then why don't you spend our time in the rec room?"

"Haven't you heard? It's been shut off for the rest of the week."

"Well, then I'm sorry, I cannot facilitate your sense of boredom, Lieutenant. NOW, I am trying to construct a simulator for our future pilots and it is **_frakking_** irritating me, and if you ever so happen to distract me further, I'll have no more alternative than to have a **Marine** escort you off my deck before I get frustrated. IS that understood, Lieutenant Valerii?"

Sharon's eyes widened like saucers. She really did not expect that kind of reaction at all, especially from Tyrol. She even felt humiliated.

Cally herself was shocked at the Chief's reaction.

Sharon took a moment to herself, trying to convalesce. "I… I—"

Tyrol was impatient. "**Is that understood!**" he said more forcefully.

"Yes!" she finally blurted out. She was obviously hurt, and also angry. "I _understand_, Chief." She glared at him a moment, and the next she was walking away, obviously trying to hide some tears.

The chief, without further ado, looking at Cally, who was staring at him in shock, carried on his mood.

"Anything you would like to add on any further, Specialist?" he requested.

Cally shook her head. "No, sir…" she softly said.

Tyrol nodded. "Good."

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

Knock, knock.

"Boomer?" inquired Racetrack's voice behind the door.

Boomer heard her coming into the officer's bathroom before. Boomer was seating in a stall with the door closed. She wiped her eyes before she responded.

"What is it, Kat?"

"I've been lookin' all over for ya, girl. Where've ya been?"

"Nowhere…"

"What's the matter, Boom? You sound a little bit like you've been crying."

"I haven't…"

A slight pause. "Come on out, Boom. Lemme see your face, will ya?"

Boomer sniffled, hesitating for a moment. She really did not want her ECO to see her like this.

"I don't want you to see me like this," she admitted.

"Ooooooh, so you have been crying."

Boomer could feel the tears starting up in her eyes again. "Yeah…"

"Well, come on, Boom, can't you at least tell me about it? You don't have to let me see you if you don't want me to…"

"…okay."

"There ya go, hun. Now, tell me, what's the matter?"

Boomer took a breath. "This guy, um…" she didn't want to say his name. "um… it was on the deck, and, um… well, I offered to help him with some falty on the Raptor, but, he didn't want it. And I… I really like this guy, but I've said done some things in the past to make him angry at me… so… I kept on asking if I could help, and, finally, he yelled at me. I never thought he would yell at me… I just thought he'd gimme a cold shoulder…"

Boomer felt like crying again. In fact, she let out a sob and immediately took a swab of toilet paper to wipe her eyes.

"Awwww, poor Boom," said Kat, sympathetically. "I'm so sorry, hun…"

Boomer let out another sob, the tears now coming out again. "Yeah… everyone's so sorry… for poor Boomer." She couldn't hold a few sobs after that.

"Aw, please, Boom, don't cry… what'll Chief Tyrol think?"

_Oh my frakking gods… _

Boomer then let out a barrage of sobs and weeps. She couldn't even get herself to say anything.

Racetrack obviously felt bad for her. "Never mind, never mind, bad thing to say… anything I can do to cheer ya up, girl?"

Boomer shook her head. "I doubt it."

"This guy hurt you bad?"

Boomer nodded. "But… I've hurt him before, so, this is probably his revenge."

"Men are so unbelievable… they could harbor something for something in the past for such a long time… it's kinda childish, really."

Boomer shook her had. "Nah… I deserved it…"

Racetrack did not quite know what to say to that.

"Well… I ran all over the ship like a Raptor, if you wanted to know?"

Sniff. "…oh?"

"Yeah; don't mean to sound mean or anything, but, you sure know how to hide."

Boomer shrugged. "Made myself hide when I didn't get along with the crew on Galactica."

"Ahh… well… if it makes you better, I'd hide myself. We all need a time to hide with ourselves. It's not weird or anything; it's just human."

There was a short silence.

"Boomer?"

Finally, the door opened. Boomer's eyes were evidently recovering from crying.

Racetrack studied her. "You alright now?"

She nodded, not saying anything.

"Up for patrol?"

Boomer's eyes widened. "Oh! Oh, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…" she started shaking her head, closing her eyes and smacking the side of her head with a fist. "What the frak is the time?"

"8:30."

Boomer grimaced. "Frak."

Racetrack smiled. "Hey, I'll cover you. I'll say no one informed you."

Boomer lightly smiled. "Thanks, Track."

"No prob, Boom. Now, let's go see what we can eat in the mess hall before we head out; I haven't had a decent meal."

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

"The President!" repeated Adama.

"Yes, sir," replied Dualla. "Her ship is requesting to dock"

"Has the President given a reason for her sudden arrival?" Adama requested.

"No, sir."

"Patch me through to the President."

"Yes, sir."

As soon as they got a connection, the old Commander picked up the receiver, and then halted. He thought for a moment, and then he spoke into the receiver.

"Madame President," he began.

"_Commander Adama_," acknowledged the President.

"Why are you docking in my ship without further telling me, sir?" he asked.

"_There is a time in the life of a civilization and in the President's term that he wishes to speak out to the military in support and recognition of their gains and accomplishments; and right now, I want to see how everything is doing well_."

"Things are going smoothly, Madame President," Adama insisted. It seemed as though he did not want the President on his ship at all, right now. Yet he knew the President was a very persistent woman. She would continue this conversation until he said yes.

Everyone at CIC was watching him.

"But we appreciate you coming, sir."

"_Thank you, Commander. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone on the _Galactica _again_."

"And I am looking forward to that meeting."

Tigh and several others in the room noticed his pronoun usage. Tigh was most curious.

The President seemed to pause for a moment on the other end.

"_Yes, I'm looking forward to it too, Commander_."

"Until then, Madame President."

"_Same to you, Commander_."

And then the connection was broken.

Adama took a sigh, and looked at the DRADIS. No Cylons. No danger.

Tigh came to his side, looking at him oddly. "So, what's it going to be: Reception on the docks, or just a regulatory meeting in the briefing room?"

Adama once again was silent for a moment, thinking to himself.

_Two weeks… she finally comes back._

"Gaeta," Adama said.

Gaeta immediately went to attention. "Yes, sir."

"You have CIC. I am _requesting _to have Colonel Tigh along with me to receive the President. Everyone else, remain at your posts."

"Sir," said everyone at CIC.

…

Adama and Tigh were just heading into the docks as one of them spoke.

"Would you like to explain that little miss-hap during your friendly conversation with the President, Bill?" Tigh asked.

"Explain, Saul."

"I mean saying that _you _were looking forward to meeting her, as opposed to _we_."

"Are you that discomforted that I left you out, Saul?"

"This is not about my well being or the rest of the ship's, but you seemed to say that you were _most interested_ in seeing her. Am I right by saying you are?"

Adama stopped walking and looked at the Colonel.

"Let's just say that, after two weeks, maybe I do need someone of higher authority to boss me around." And then Adama proceeded to walk.

Tigh shook his head. "That doesn't sound like the old Husker. Sounds more like a romantic, if you ask me."

"I _didn't_, however."

"I apologize."

"You are forgiven."

"I just hope this is not going to be one of those welcomes where she bosses us all around. I had enough to deal with back at Ragnar."

"But she was right, then. She's right, now."

Tigh looked at Adama especially. "Yes, sir."

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

"Commander on deck!" shouted Tyrol, assuming the position of attention.

Immediately, at the Commander's presence, all on deck had gone to attention. The Commander had the Colonel with him. Tigh kept glimpsing at Adama warily several times; Adama ignored him.

The Commander stepped up to the Chief. Tyrol had his hand up to his brow in a salute.

The Commander returned the salute. "AT EAST," he said, and everyone resumed their duties.

"Chief," he began.

"Sir!"

"I would require you and several deckhands on the dock. We're receiving the President this morning."

"Yes, sir," Tyrol replied firmly. _The President? After two weeks?_

Adama nodded. Tyrol saluted him again, and then gathered Cally and several other deckhands as they proceeded to the docks.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

"_Good morning, Colonial One_," said Dualla on the intercom.

"_Galactica_," replied the captain. "This has been one smooth landing in the port flight pod, and we are ready to settle."

"_Thank you, Captain, and welcome aboard_."

"Glad to be aboard, Lieutenant," Captain Anjin replied. He looked at his copilot.

"If glad is the word," his copilot said.

"Thrilled, actually," Anjin said to himself. "Two weeks and nothing but flying the ship. It's good to get a little rest."

"Yes… and at least the President gets to walk around more space, you know?"

"Yeah. Two weeks…"

"You said it."

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

Laura felt she was well received on the docks. She particularly enjoyed seeing the Chief and his deckhands. It was, however, always inconvenient to meet Colonel Tigh.

She felt it was always beneficial to see Commander Adama. Always.

"Commander," she said with a smile.

The commander gave a half-smile back. "Madame President."

Both shook hands with each other, looking at each other intently for a moment.

_Go ahead, smile. Please,_ she thought. _I really don't mind._

"Welcome aboard, sir."

"How has everything been, Commander?"

"Over the past weeks?"

"Yes, over the weeks."

"We are doing fine. There been some slips, but they have been dealt with."

"Anything I should be worried about?"

"Not at all, Madame President."

She smiled. "Good."

He fully smiled back.

_Thank you, Adama._

"How long are you planning on staying, Madame President?" inquired Colonel Tigh. "Just out of curiosity."

_Since he needs a professional answer… _

"Probably till tomorrow morning, Colonel," she assured. She wanted to stay here for a while.

Standing next to her was Billy Keikeya, a fairly good looking young man who served as the President's Aide. Oftentimes he was unkempt, mostly from being overly nervous. He had been that way since the Cylon attacks. But he kept his mind in the right set, and continued to serve the President.

_It's good I'm staying a day. It would give Billy a chance to be with Dualla._

The Colonel frowned, but said no more.

"Would you like to get settled first, Madame President?" Adama inquired.

She smiled. Suddenly, she felt the pain. Her eyes closed briefly as she tried to not let it show. _Oh gods…!_

It actually took her a few moments to get it under control.

The Commander looked worried. "Madame President?"

She had to fight it. She had to, so that no one would know. No one had to know.

She opened her eyes, smiling at the Commander. "Yes, I would very much like that. Thank you, Commander."

Hesitant for a moment, the Commander smiled back and had things taken care off on _Colonial One_.

The Presidents things were placed in the guest quarters. Laura found herself sitting at the edge of her bed in thought. Billy was in the room making notes and etcetera on his notepad.

"What are planning to do, if I may ask, Madame President?" Billy asked.

Laura's head was somewhere else just as he asked that question. That pain was an utter nuisance, especially at the docks.

She comprehended the message a few seconds later. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Madame President, what exactly are you on board here for, if I may ask?" Billy was curious.

She looked away for a brief moment, and then sighed. "I do not think it was to see how things were going. I don't sound professional right now, I know… but I just felt the urge to get away from the old things; go somewhere. Here was the most obvious solution."

Billy looked at her. "Speaking off record, I think it's a good idea."

She looked at him. "Why, Billy?"

"I believe it may boost everyone's morale, here. Since we've had no Cylons for two weeks, it's possible everyone here is slacking off; discipline growing low. Maybe you could alleviate that just by being here."

She thought that was a good idea. "It would make my reason for being here sensible."

"Well, there you go, sir," he said encouragingly. "And, if I may say so, Commander Adama seemed very content to have you aboard."

Laura smiled. "No doubt it's just a show; trying to humor me because I am the President."

Billy did not know how to quite answer that. "Um, I guess so, Madame President…"

"Do tell me, what time is it, Billy?"

"9:40 A.M., Madame President."

_The pain is still there…_

"I'm probably going to take a lie-down for a couple of hours."

"Did you not get any sleep last night?" Billy asked. He looked tired himself.

"I doubt anyone get much sleep, Billy," she said; "If you would, please check on me in thirty minutes."

Billy nodded, motioning to the door. "Yes, sir."

"Why don't you…" Laura started, taking her heels off. "Go see how Dualla is?"

Billy froze slightly. He obviously did not expect her to think Billy was looking forward to seeing Dualla. It surprised him.

Laura smiled, "Go ahead, kid." She winked.

Billy flushed. "Thank you, Madame President…" and then he closed the hatch behind him as he left.

Laura looked at the wall, concentrating on fighting the pain. "Gods… Oh Gods… when will it end?"

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

Laura actually woke herself up a few minutes before Billy knocked on her door. She found herself waking from a nightmare.

"Madame President?" Billy's voice echoed through.

Laura also found herself sweating incessantly. She was also shaking a bit.

"Don't come in," she said; she was not decent to be seen. Then she just remembered she had locked the door. But, still.

"It's been two hours," said Billy.

Laura sighed. "Yes, thank you, Billy…"

Silence.

"What is on the agenda, Madame President?" he asked.

Laura knew she smelt bad, and she needed to take a shower. "Let me take a shower. I'll be outside in a while."

And when she finally came out almost a half hour later, Billy was dozing on the wall.

Laura put a hand on Billy's shoulder. "Billy."

He jerked awake. "OH, uh, yes, Madame president?"

"Go ahead and take a nap. You must be tired… how was Dualla?"

"Um… She was fine, thank you, sir." Laura could tell the two had a nice meeting.

She smiled. "Go and take a nap. I'll see how the morale is around here."

Just as she said that, Commander Adama had just arrived to check up on her.

"I assure you," he said, making his presence known. "That the morale around here is fine, Madame President."

"Is it?" she said, looking to him. "Well, if it is alright, I would like to make a quick visit to the brig. I hear some soldiers were thrown in there for a fight last night."

Adama's lips came to be a straight line and he looked grim. "Yes."

"May I at least see how they are doing?"

Adama was against it, clearly. But he could not go against such a little decision. "Fine."

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

He had been on guard duty for a while. He took a break or two, but, nothing more. Corporal Gavin Venner took a brief sigh, wanting to so get to bed. He had not slept last night.

He looked at Private Wyvern Kelso, who kept drifting on and off into a doze.

"Hey, Wyvern," he said.

Wyvern's eyes blinked away and he took a sigh. "Gods…"

"They're with you, trust me," Gavin said. He was highly religious, being a native from Gemenon.

Wyvern cleared his throat and said nothing more.

The prisoners— sorry, _detainees _were in their cells, still angry and saying anything to each other. The two privates were sitting with their backs facing each other, Lieutenant Thrace was doing situps on the floor and using the bunk to pull her to chest to her knees, and Captain Adama was doing nothing but tracing his finger across the back of his other hand. Gavin had been watching them all intently.

_Poor souls. _

He heard footsteps, and the hatch opened and the first face to appear was that of a woman. The President.

Both Marines came to attention and saluted to the President.

"At ease, sirs," she said.

The detainees knew that face, and all their eyes came upon her.

Gavin and Wyvern dropped their salutes.

Laura smiled at Gavin for a brief moment. They knew each other.

"How are you doing, Corporal?" she asked.

"Very well, thank you Madame President," he said.

She had come to respect the Marine. Both of them had met during a Cylon attack, and Gavin asked her to pray with him. Since, Laura had been making frequent prayers to the Gods.

"Were all of these persons involved with the fight last night, Corporal?" the President asked, glancing at the prisoners individually. She did not know the privates, but she did know Kara and Lee. Both Kara and Lee stood up. But, however, both were not acknowledging each other.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

"MOST of them, Madame President," the marine replied. "Three officers are serving their punishment differently."

Laura nodded. _Wonder why._

Commander Adama was standing outside the door, waiting for her to be done. Laura concluded that because she said 'quick visit', he was waiting for her to be done.

_It's probably because he doesn't want to see Lee, no doubt…_

"Thank you once again, Corporal."

"You're welcome, Madame President."

Laura then stepped close to the cell bars. She glanced at each prisoner, giving them a personal acknowledgement. She wanted it known she was not going to be scolding or whatnot.

_But Gods, I don't know what to tell these people…_

She took a breath. "I hope the game was fun while it lasted," was what she started with.

The soldiers slightly grimaced, but did not mean to show it to her.

"I don't want to dwell on the matter of what happened last night," she said; "instead I want to thank you all for what you have done so far; making sure the Colony is lasting. It is not easy being the President… and I am glad that I have such soldiers such as yourselves. Although I think it was not the wisest decision, I do not blame you for playing a game of cards during the night, while everyone is sleeping. We've been out in space for two weeks, lost and losing our grip. Let last night be a reminder that we are all still alive, and we should at least acknowledge that before we jump down each other's throats."

It seemed to be catching everyone's ears. They all listened with heart, taking in the President's words of wisdom very wisely. They knew she was talking true.

Laura smiled briefly. "I hope you get out soon." She nodded to them, and then she left. As she went through the door, the Marines saluted her once more, and then when the hatch closed, everyone was back where they were before.

But now, they were thinking harder.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

"You are very kind, Madame President," said Adama.

The President stepped out and that was the first thing he said. Personally, he couldn't have done it. He still wanted to give Lee space.

Laura looked at him, expecting him to further his point.

"But these are Viper pilots," Adama continued. "I think they can live with the fact they are detained."

"Commander," Laura said very quickly; "I am here to support the well-being of your officers and soldiers. I felt that those people needed some support; they looked very miserable."

"With all due respect, Madame President, I do not believe they minded."

"I believe they did."

Adama was halted by that.

"With all due respect, Commander, I believe you need to be democratic in your leadership. It is obvious you came down hard on these persons. All I did was to alleviate the burden of feeling some a stifling shame."

"They should feel shame," Adama countered. "They played a game of triad in the middle of the night and then broke out into a fight. They are more controlled than that."

"But like you said, they are Viper pilots," said the President. "From what I've learned, Viper pilots are willingly diminished of self-control when they have nothing better to do. We have been out in space for two weeks, and we have had no Cylon contact. Do the math, Commander."

Adama stiffened at that remark, but refused to debate. Nothing was more uncomfortable or more miserably time-consuming than to debate with the President.

He cleared his throat. "Where would you like to go now, Madame President?"

Laura looked down the halls for a moment. "CIC?"

Adama nodded. "I think we can permit that." And he lead the way.

All the way there, Adama couldn't stop thinking about how the President had made him feel. He felt mad, threatened, frustrated, and _insubordinate_. He hated feeling insubordinate.

But he reminded himself; he used to take orders, once: he took orders very well. He never questioned an order, and carried it out to the best of his abilities.

No matter what, he would take orders from a higher authority and respect it.

_But this is an inexperienced woman; a schoolteacher! It is like taking orders from a very foolishly frivolous young teenaged girl…_

As he got to think about that notion, though, he could not help but wonder if she was this way with everyone… or just him.

_She does often undermine my authority often. I've even seen it to appear very teasingly. Maybe even playfully. _

He took a hidden glance at her.

_Funny woman._


	4. Contact

_Kaset e vin diouzh e alan  
_I will be pulled away by its breath

_Pell gant ar red, hervez 'deus c'hoant  
_Far away by its stream, wherever it wishes

_Hervez 'deus c'hoant pell eus ar bed  
_Wherever it wants, far away from this world

_Etre ar mor hag ar stered  
_Between the sea and the stars

-_'Gortoz a Ran',_

_Black Hawk Down Theme_

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii _

_Contact _

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii _

_Honestly…_

Baltar took a swipe of wipes and he cleaned the rim of the toilet until it had been cleaned of all gross human liquids and grime. The last person obviously did not wipe after himself.

Down went his pants, and down went his ass on the toilet. And so began to—

Actually, Baltar just reminded himself. If anyone ever started to write about a man (or a woman) doing his (or her) business on the toilet in such discrete detail, the readers would be disgusted.

Mental note: never write about dirty business in the toilets.

After Baltar was finished with his business and all the tidying of himself, he pulled his pants up, cleaned after himself, and then vacated the stall and shifted towards the sink. On went the faucet, and so Dr. Baltar proceeded to clean his hands. He looked up into the mirror in front of him and looked at himself.

He grinned. _I guess I am such a handsome man; _very _handsome… that hair that just happens to curl at the shoulders…_

"Yes you are, Gaius," he said to himself. He laughed.

_What the universe needs is a good looking man such as myself. _

He chuckled. "Yes, funny thought."

_Well, actually, I guess the universe needs a man like me. I am smart… intelligent…_

"Handsomeness is a very attractive factor in a man… a good leader could get away with looks… now if he were the President…"

Baltar shook his head. "Nah… a good president does not talk to himself in the loo… or does he?" he inquired.

He laughed. He was talking to himself; he was actually talking to himself.

_No doubt everyone thinks I talk to myself anyway. But, still… funny._

"Gaius…" said a voice.

Pause.

A big pause.

_Who… was _that?

Baltar looked behind him. He did not know who that voice was; he had never heard it before!

As much as he looked, he did not see anyone in the bathroom with him. He was the only one present.

But he could not shake off the feeling that he had company. Could it be good or bad company? If it was good company, then it was probably a crewmember.

_Bad company?_

"Don't even think about it," he said to himself, shaking his mental nerves. "Just don't…"

"Think about what?"

Baltar jumped at the sight of her. One blink, and she was there; Six. She looked curious.

He took a deep breath. "Thought I heard a voice, darling."

Six thoroughly looked around. "Honestly, Gaius, you _must _be hearing things…"

Baltar glared at her. "I don't find any mirth in that, I'll have you know."

Six smiled widely, showing an incredibly perfect quality of a smile. Sometimes it was too much to look at; it was so gorgeous.

"Gaius…" she purred. "You have an unmatched wit, my dear."

She turned him away from the mirror to face her, pulling herself close to him until her face was practically pressed up against his. Her lips grazed his lips in a very distant kiss.

"Gaius?" she asked.

Baltar was preoccupied in his own thoughts. He was looking straight into Six's eyes, as though trying to find answers.

"Gaius, what's wrong?"

He broke his trance, seeming quite shaken up and slightly nervous. "I… I don't know. Didn't you hear anything?"

"Hear what?"

"A voice. It called my name."

"Could it be possible that it was, me, by any chance?" she said with a grin.

Baltar shook his head. "No, definitely not. This voice… It… it was different."

Baltar did not move from his imaginary friend. He always found her company friendly.

"What did it sound like?"

"I think it sounded human… but, it was too...'"

"You can't remember?"

"No; I've been thinking too much that I just forgot it."

"Gaius," she said, kissing down his neck. "You think too much. Now you know the problems that can cause for you."

"W-w-well…" Gaius stuttered; her breath down his neck… oh yeah. It was like having a jumbo-charged flamethrower blast a streak of flame down his flesh. It was _good._

"But…" she said, kissing more of his flesh. "Can you recall… how you heard it, maybe?"

What a thought.

"Yes… yeah! Yeah, I can," Baltar realized, looking at the wall as though gazing at his own mind; he was onto something. "But…" he could not withstand thinking and feeling the urge for sex fighting each other. It was either sex or thinking.

… Sex.

Baltar took Six's face into his hand, cupping her cheeks gently, and focused on her. "But… I think we should consider new grounds of our… sexcapade."

Six liked the sound of that very much; enough to make her hands traverse the clothed bodice of her lover. "mmmm…" she purred. "In the john?"

Baltar grinned. "I know of a stall… that's just been cleaned."

"Oh, do you?'

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"New idea?"

"You might say that."

Six playfully licked his lips in glee, making his senses go nuts with anticipation. Baltar was grinning like mad.

"Which stall?" she inquired.

Baltar immediately led her back to the stall, and then close the door in haste.

Like before; some things are not meant to be written about: especially when they take place in the loo.

This was by far no exception… well… maybe.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

"Commander…" Tigh called.

Adama, busy trying to entertain the President, almost ignored the Colonel. But the look on his face seemed to draw Adama. So, he pardoned himself from the President (who was talking to Gaeta), and went over to Tigh, who was looking over the space charts.

"What is it, Colonel?"

"Well, sir, with the help of Gaeta's reports and these charts, I may have an idea where we are currently swimming into.

"Swimming into?" repeated Adama.

"If you look at this chart—" Tigh impatiently wrestled a chart out from the messy piles of charts laid strawn on the table and revealed it to the Commander. "—this is where we were attacked. About thirty miles from the border of the chart, that was when we last encountered the Cylons. We were at the border around 1700 hours, a day and two weeks ago using the FTL. Over the past few weeks, we have decreased our speed gradually, and are now at a decent traveling speed. NOW, using information from stats, after calculating length over time with the location we started with and the location we ended with plus the FTL and then calculating length over time with interval speeds, and blah blah…" Tigh was tapping the chart with the butt of his pen as he did the math in his head. "…we were 500 miles from the border of this chart— as of yesterday."

Adama looked straight at him. "500 miles?"

Tigh nodded. "500 miles."

"As beneficial as that information may come to be when updating our charts is," Adama began making his point; "that still does not leave us with a definite location, Colonel. Do, you, or, do, you, not, know, where, we, are?"

Tigh irrevocably sighed. "Not exactly."

"Then where _are_ we, Colonel?" Adama was getting impatient.

"Other than being perhaps 520 miles from the border of the charts we cannot know. It would take more groundup work with the charts history to figure that out."

"Then, by all means, do so. Right now… I'm keeping the President entertained. I would really appreciate it if you allowed me some room to do so, Saul."

"Mm-hmm…" murmured Tigh.

Adama turned to go, but then looked at Tigh. "Don't you get any funny ideas, now…"

"It's not my idea, Commander, when the rest of the ship thought it up beforehand."

"…thank you, Colonel. Get to work on those charts."

"Aye, sir."

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

"How is everything on board the _Galactica_, Lieutenant Gaeta?" Laura asked friendly.

"It has been… well, very quiet, sir," the young man replied, sidetracked with work.

_Oh gods… please let there be some REAL news…_

But, nevertheless, Laura put on her smile; that friendly but fake smile of hers.

"Has everything been alright on the _Colonial One_, Madame President?" Gaeta asked. "That is, if I may ask."

Laura lightly laughed. "Well, since you HARDLY gave me chance to let you ask—"

Gaeta shut his eyes. "Oh, oh, oh, I do apologize, Madame President—"

"No, it's alright," she said, assuring him. "Really, nothing has happened."

Gaeta opened his eyes. "Oh. Well… I guess that is good news."

_Great; good news…_

Again, Laura put on her smile.

"However, Lieutenant, I do want to ask," she put in almost up front; "do you have any idea where we are?"

Gaeta was dead silent.

"Lieutenant?"

Gaeta opened his mouth to speak.

"I believe the Lieutenant is currently working on that, Madame President," Adama had cut in.

Gaeta, relieved, looked back up at the DRADIS and resumed his work.

Laura turned towards Adama, giving him the same smile she gave to the lieutenant.

"Commander," she started, sounding as if making a request; "If I am to get a general idea on our current status, I think it would be much more courteous if you did not interrupt me every time I ask a question."

"Any questions go to me," Adama countered.

"So, really, you do not know what the status is?"

Adama was silent a moment. "Currently, we are working on that."

"You can't make a guess?"

"It would be unwise to do so, Madame President. I believe facts would benefit us more than guesses."

Laura looked at the DRADIS a moment. The actual DRADIS was positioned over the Commander and Control Center in CIC; in the direct middle of the room. Hanging from the ceiling, it consisted of four computer monitors that displayed the DRADIS (Direction, Range, and Distance). A semicircular line stretched from left to right on the screen, serving as the border of one third of a circle. Inside the border were more lines the circled around until it reached the center (which was at the bottom of the screen). Every second, a three-dimensional line, extending from the bottom of the screen to the end of the border, came around revealing new information in the field of sight. It could show Commander Adama (or any other officer present, for that matter) what ships were in their range; and could tell if they were friendly or not.

Fifty ships were recognized on the DRADIS. All of them Colonial.

"Madame President?" the Commander spoke, noticing that the President had come into a distracted state.

Laura flashed back to the present. "Yes, Commander, you… you're right. But the people need an answer; and they would want it immediately."

Adama's lips came into a thin line once more. "There is _no _shame in saying we do not know."

"But you seem to think otherwise," she rebutted; "even a commander such as yourself would still want a statement that left everyone in the know."

Adama removed his spectacles and looked straight at her.

Laura flashed her smile again.

_Caught you, didn't I?_

"I know you, Commander Adama," she said. "You're a man who wants a firm answer, regardless if there is no definite one."

She half-expected him to stay quiet for a moment as he recuperated from her statements, and next reply by agreeing with her.

But, unexpectedly, that was not the case at all.

"I believe we all still do not know. I cannot answer you as of this moment."

_Damn…_

Laura's smile dropped for a moment.

Adama lightly smiled.

But, feeling that she still had the upperhand of this conversation, Laura brought up her smile again.

"Commander—"

"Madame President," the commander spoke quit suddenly. "I think you would be more interested in another matter.

Laura's smile faded. She had obviously been beaten this round.

Adama was obviously hiding a smile; he knew he won.

"Um, yes, Commander," Laura spoke subsequently; "I would like to see how things down on the deck are doing."

Adama nodded. "Tigh, you have CIC."

Tigh was watching them both from afar. "Yes, sir…" and then shook his head as he looked back down on the charts.

"This way, Madame President," he said, turning the other way already.

As Laura followed, she thought to herself how she could get back at him; just because she felt a tinge of amused curiosity when doing this meaningless battles with him; she felt Some kind of heat from him whenever they fought.

It was very addictive.

_Smile now, Commander. I'll get you back._

And they were ready to head out of CIC…

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

"Crossing out into sector G7… heading near an asteroid belt," he reported.

"_Alright, Slipper. Careful flying in there_," replied _Galactica_,"

"Will do. Slipper out."

The engine of his Viper Mark VII roared behind him as he delved into the deep space. Deep _uncharted _space. He was, specifically, flying beside an asteroid belt, staying maybe five clicks away from any potential danger (in the form of a huge asteroid).

_Patrolling can really bite…_

"_What do you think is in there_?" inquired his wingmate; his Viper was flying nearby his.

"Rocks and more rocks," chuckled Slipdog.

"_That's it?_"

"You bet."

"_I mean, seriously—_"

"I know; you're asking a serious question, and I'm giving you a serious answer."

"_I don't mean that, Slip_."

"Come on, let's keep the comm chatter down,"

"_Okay._"

"Just… I wanna hear the sound of space."

"_You mean your engine?_"

Slipdog shook his head. "Could you be quiet for a moment?"

His wingmate had cut the chatter, but Slipdog could see him laughing in his cockpit.

But Slipdog seemed to think about what his wingmate was egging on about. What _was _in there?

They started drifting closer to the asteroid belt to get a better look. So far, all they saw were clumps of rock. To be honest, it began looking like one huge group of rocks.

"Gods, I can't see frak in there."

His wingmate glided closer, almost in range of entering the belt itself.

"Don't you think about it!"

"_Come on, Slipdog! Can't I just slip in and out for a moment?_"

"Hey, that's _my _gig."

"_Well, let it be mine for a moment, 'Dog. I'm going in._"

"Don't do it, Lieutenant…" warned Slipdog.

"_Nothing's gonna happen!_"

As much as his heart told him to, Slipdog couldn't stop his bud. He was not exactly the best when it came to coming down hard on his subordinates; especially those who were his friends.

He let his wingmate do his dangerous patrol. He was a pretty good pilot after all.

…

…

…

Slipdog had probably glided up and down the strip, glaring at the point at the wall of rocks where his friend went in, more than fifty times when he grew anxious. And Slipdog did not get nervous easily.

His wingmate had not come out for twenty minutes.

"Zapper, do you read?" he spoke in the comm..

Nothing.

"Zapper, Slipdog, what's your status?"

Silence.

_What the frak's going on!_

He stared at the wall of rocks for the longest time, wondering what could possibly keep his wingmate in there for _so _long. Zapper may have been a curious fellow, but he couldn't have been this curious.

Maybe he got caught between some rocks?

Slipdog sighed.

"Galactica, do you read?"

"_Yes, Slipdog._"

"My wingmate flew into the asteroid belt about twenty minutes ago and has not turned up. I am going in for pursuit."

"**Be **_careful, Lieutenant._"

"Hey, I'm SLIPDOG. I slip wherever I want."

"_Just watch yourself._"

"I read ya. Slipdog out."

With that, he turned himself into the direction of the asteroid belt. With careful piloting, he managed to squeeze himself in.

_Gods, this is madness!_

He was flying blind! Everywhere he looked, there was a rock. No space. No nothing. Rocks. Rocks and rocks!

He had to—

_FRAK ME!_

He PULLED hard to the right and just dodged an asteroid— then he dodged to the left! It soon became a combo of lefts, rights, ups, downs, rights, ups, and etc. for Slipdog, and he began dreading the worst for his wingmate.

"Jacobs, you BETTER be alive; 'cause if I ain't, I'm choking you in hell!" he yelled.

He suddenly began hearing static going off and on. Like someone was trying to connect him.

_Thank Gods!_

"Jacobs! Where are you!"

"…g….h….Slip…!"

"JACOBS, WHAT, IS, YOUR, POSITION!"

"Get… go… GET OUT!"

"What? Speak clearly! I can't see or hear you in this mess!"

Suddenly, he broke out into an open space in the belt. But what he saw there made him say 'My Gods' in a very horrified tone. And he finally found his wingmate.

"RUN, DOG!"

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

"CONTACT!" shouted Dualla.

Adama, the President, and everyone else in CIC halted at the sound of that.

"We have contact!" she said again.

Suddenly, everyone's hearts began to thump against their chest in surprised shock.

On the DRADIS, seven dots appeared. One of them was Colonial.

"What's the status on those six unknown ships?" Adama said calmly but with anticipation apparent in his voice.

"The Colonial pilot has announced that they are enemy," replied Dualla.

"Patch me through to him," Adama requested, grabbing the receiver already.

"Aye, sir."

The minute the connection was made, all everyone could hear was the pilot screaming and shouting.

"_Galactica, do you read me! Galactica!_"

"This is Commander Adama; what is going on!"

"_Sir! Thank Gods! I— me and my wingman were— GYAH! Holy Gods! But me and my wingman were on patrol near the asteroid belt— FRAK! That almost got me— HOLY—_" static.

"Lieutenant!"

Static… "_Krypter— Krypter— Sir— I— wha— Gala— what— FRAK—_" Adama kept getting mixed messages from the pilot.

"LIEUTENANT, CALM DOWN! GET A HOLD OF YOUR SHIP!" Adama said forcefully. "ARE THEY CYLON!"

"_S— enemy— within sector Alpha— need help— they are— killed my wingman— Cylon— weapons— offline— need assistance— STAT—_"

Slipdog's Viper started moving in all direction on the DRADIS. The other two ships were beginning to make maneuvers to take him out.

They were getting closer to the fleet.

"Lieutenant, repeat, are they Cylons?"

Pause.

"_N— they are not but—_" Static.

"Lieutenant, you'll have to bring them closer to the ship," said Adama. "That way we can take them out with our turret barrage."

"_Sir— I'll— best_."

"Set Condition Two throughout the ship, Gaeta."

"Aye, sir!" Gaeta replied. "_Set Condition Two throughout the ship_. _Incoming unknown fighters. Prepare for enemy attack._"

"Move us away from the fleet by four clicks," ordered Adama. He was getting nervous; these were not Cylons. The Pilot was getting scared.

"_Sir— they're gaining— need help— they're smart— FRAK!"_

The pilot was flying like a madman; he was lucky he wasn't getting shot.

"_HOLY— they're unlike— seen. They— look like spiders—"_

"How far are we from the fleet?" Adama said.

"Two clicks, sir."

"_oh frak— guided— weapons!"_

"Lieutenant! You've got to stay alive—"

"_Losing stabilizer contr— SHIT! They've got my wing!"_

"They're coming closer to us faster than we are to them," said Gaeta.

"Lieutenant, we're about to start firing!"

"_Ready— anytime!_"

"Firing cannon turrets."

"MOVE!"

The Colonial's ship moved hard to the right on the DRADIS. Two of the enemy ships suddenly vanished.

"_You got 'em!"_

"Start heading for the port landing pod, Lieutenant!"

"_Aye sir!"_

"Opening port—"

"No, not yet Gaeta. Wait for the enemy to break off."

Soon enough, all the enemy dots had vanished.

"Halt cannon fire."

:Halting cannon fire."

Silence.

The pilot began speaking clearly on the channel, now.

"_Sir, I visibly saw you take down three of those things._"

"What about the other three?"

"…_either they probably exploded alongside each other or used an FTL drive to fly out. Otherwise, I don't see anything else_."

"Can you land?"

"_I think I can crash into the landing bay, but I'll be alright sir!_"

"Do what you can, Lieutenant; come home."

"_Aye sir!_"

Adama took a breath to himself. Then he looked at everyone; they were watching him expectantly.

"Gaeta," Adama spoke. "Return to condition three and get that pod opened."

"Aye sir. _Set Condition Three throughout the ship. Threat is diminished. Opening port landing pod._"

"Retract the cannon turrets."

"Retracting, sir."

"Dualla, do we have any more Colonial ships on patrol?"

"Lieutenant Hicks and Lieutenant Antilles are patrolling behind the fleet while Lieutenant Smith and Lieutenant Do are checking on the sides. Boomer and Racetrack are patrolling ahead of the fleet."

"Send Smith and Do to check out the scene Slipdog's talking about, and have Boomer and Racetrack check with them."

"Aye, sir. Slipdog's in."

"Good. How was his landing?"

"Tyrol reports the ship is wasted."

"Must have been one hell of a task with half his ship gone."

"Aye, sir."

A sense of calm had started to ease throughout the people in CIC.

Adama looked at the President, who had been breathing heavily for a while.

"Are you alright, Laura?" he said, not realizing he said her name.

She seemed to notice it. "I'm fine, thank you... Commander."

When he did realize it, he did his best to not look as if he did.

_Why did I do that?_

"We are probably going to need a service," said the President.

At the top of his head, Adama would have asked 'what', but realized she was referring to Slipdog's wingmate. How could he forget that?

"Yes, we are," he said; "Madame President."

…

The President was escorted back to her quarters, with Billy asking her what had happened. Everyone onboard could hear the gunfire.

Adama returned to CIC to resume his post. He noticed some people were looking at him.

He realized something very spectacular about the events that just happened. He needed to speculate it with his people.

"I have to say, although we have been tired from a sense of boredom, and in fatigue of running from Cylons we have not seen, for two weeks, you have reminded me that I am leading some very brilliant people. Through fatigue and total relaxation, you all have managed to pull yourselves together and stand up strong for the moment once again. For that, I am immensely proud of you all."

Everyone began realizing it as well, and they looked amazed with themselves.

Adama was very proud. "Thank you all." He knew he could depend on these people to do what he needed them to do; and in such great time.

He was grateful.

He nodded his head, issuing them to resume their posts.

"Commander," spoke Tigh.

Adama met him near Command and Control.

"We need to find out what we just dealt with," said Tigh.

"What we are dealing with now, you mean."

"You think we'll see them again?"

"Maybe, but if we _are_ going to investigate this issue, we are going to have to carefully tiptoe our way through this."

"Like we're sneaking around a sleeping cat, right?"

"Or five hundred."

Tigh looked at him, comprehending that message. "Aye, sir."

"We're going to need to have a flyby CAP every two hours, now. Get Kara out from the brig and have her replace Slipdog and Zapper."

Now Tigh was looking at him cautiously. "Are you sure you wanna do that, Bill?"

"Yes, and I'm not going back on my decision."

"…alright… but you gonna leave Kara to take on two posts at once?"

Adama blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Aren't you gonna have her fly with someone?"

"…oh, right, right. Has Hotdog finished today's painting?"

"Actually he hasn't begun. Thankfully."

"Get him flying with Kara."

Tigh nodded, motioning to leave. Then he stopped.

"Oh, uh, Commander."

"Yes, Colonel?"

"You're not gonna release Lee, are you?"

Adama paused. Was he going to?

"Let him fill out his week in hack."

Tigh blinked this time. "And you're releasing _Starbuck_!"

"She's the best pilot."

"So's _Lee_," reminded Tigh. "Both of them make a deadly pair even on a CAP."

"Lee will stay in the brig," Adama said rather calmly.

Tigh could not understand Adama. But he could not go against his order. "Aye, sir." And then left.

Adama, looking up at the DRADIS, began thinking to himself.

_Lee cannot afford to be in any kind of fight. He just can't._

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

The colonel came in to the brig, accompanied by a drowsy Hotdog. The two Marines immediately came to attention and saluted.

"At ease," uttered the old colonel. He could see the detainees.

The two privates were giving each other the cold shoulder, managing to leave the other out of his or her life. And, surprisingly, Thrace and Lee were refusing to acknowledge each other as well.

_Couples' quarrels_, Tigh dimly thought.

The four prisoners looked at the Colonel, wondering why he and Hotdog were here.

"Lieutenant Thrace is to be released," Tigh said to a Marine.

"Aye, sir!" said the Marine, moving to the cells.

As soon as the Colonel told the Marine to release her, Thrace gave a short glance at Lee before leaving her cell. Lee looked baffled.

"Wait, what's happening?" he demanded.

"Lieutenant Thrace and Lieutenant Constanza are flying a CAP together," the colonel replied. "It's your day off, Captain."

"But wait, we both fly the CAP together," Lee said defensively.

"Now you're not."

Lee was starting to get angry. "Colonel—"

"CAPTAIN," Tigh came close right up to Lee's cell, looking tense.

Lee's jaw tensed. "Colonel."

Tigh took a moment to calm himself, looking at the ground and sighing. "Your father does not want you to fly the CAP."

Lee blinked. "He doesn't."

Tigh shook his head, looking at Lee. "Lee, I'm, well... I'm sorry. I can only determine that he is still mad at you for the fight."

Lee shook his head. "I wasn't even a part of the fight; I was trying to break it up. Can't you see that?"

"Captain, I've heard your father talk about your school fights and your scuffles when you were a young schoolboy and even as a private. What makes either myself or the Commander believe your statement now, even if you _have_ the bars to prove it?"

Lee was infuriately silent.

"Thrace, on the other hand," said Tigh, gesturing to her. She was giving him a nonplussed look.

"She… she's expendable," he said. He looked at her; "Sorry for saying so."

She said nothing.

"But Lee," Tigh continued, looking back at him. "Just make it easy for your father and be a good boy in hack?"

Lee remained silent. He shot a glance at Thrace, who looked at the ground. Then Lee, back to Tigh, sighed.

"Fine."

Tigh nodded his head to him. Then, as he took Thrace and Hotdog out, Lee just watched in disbelief and sunk onto his bunk. He buried his face in his hands, trying to massage all the sore muscles he irately tensed during that conversation.

The two privates were looking at him pitifully.

Lee didn't feel like talking to them. He didn't feel like talking at all. He wanted this whole thing to brush off so that he could fly again.

He wished his father could just forget it; forget it all! It felt humiliating to have this done to him. From what he believed, his father was trying to discipline him.

But he did not even listen to Lee; he barely gave him the chance. Why was he doing this?

He thought about what Kara must have been thinking. She was probably still angry at him for accusing her of starting a fight; for being spontaneously angry with her.

He didn't want to talk to her. He didn't want to fly with her. He thought it was probably for the best she flew with someone else. Maybe he'll be the next to feel angry at her sometimes.

But to some extent, Lee wished that wouldn't happen.


	5. Creepers

_Jeepers, creepers  
Where'd you get them peepers?  
Jeepers, creepers  
Where'd you get those eyes?  
Gosh oh, git up  
How'd they get so lit up?  
Gosh oh, gee oh  
How'd they get that size? _

Jeepers, creepers  
Where'd ya get them peepers  
Oh, those weepers  
How they hypnotize

_-Louis Armstrong_

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

_Creepers_

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

All the deckhands had flooded onto the deck once Slipdog's Viper got in. Everyone had heard about the dogfight, and that he was lucky to have survived. They really wanted to see how bad it really was.

As they pulled it down into the deck, everyone's mouths were wide open in awe.

The Viper was being pulled onto the deck via tractor pull; however it had barely gone four meters when the Viper broke off with it. It appeared that the nose of the Viper had been fractured during the dogfight, and had now finally shattered. The Viper collapsed with a loud **_CRUNK_**. The Viper pointed to the ground and also leaned to the side, for a wing had been destroyed. The engines were blown to hell. The cockpit window had been cracked, and, apparently, enemy fire had managed to hit right through the window. Many hoped the pilot was still alive.

Tyrol and several deckhands got a stepladder and got it to the side of the Viper so they could get to Slipdog in the cockpit. Tyrol climbed up the ladder and looked inside to see Slipdog. The pilot's visor was fogged up by breath, for Slipdog had breathing like he had been choking for air, and his helmet had burn marks from enemy fire.

As soon as the cockpit window opened, Tyrol flicked the lock on Slipdog's helmet, and the pilot manically threw his helmet off and allowed it to crash on the deck.

"**HOLY FRAKKING GODS**!" he cried.

Tyrol's hands vanished within Slipdog's frenzied hands as they both struggled to get the pilot out. The pilot was near to insanity.

"What the frak happened!" gasped Tyrol.

"We're out on patrol," Slipdog said, receiving shock and shaking incredibly as if he were stricken with a heart attack; "me and Zapper. We, we, we, had no idea what was in there. But, Zapper, he, he went in and—"

"Keep talking; and please stop moving your hands!"

"Well, well, we went nearby the, the, the, um, the— hey, I got it, lemme try it— asteroid belt – stop it! – and Zapper went in. He, he, he didn't come out for twenty minutes, so – I frakking said I got it! – I went in, and then I found 'em. They were— TYROL, I SAID I GOT IT!"

"Calm the frak down!"

"**GET ME OUTTA THIS FRAKKING JUNK HEAP, THEN, GODS DAMN YOU**!"

Tyrol had enough with the panicking hands and the crazy pilot's jabbering. Tyrol grabbed a utensil knife and cut right through the bonds that held the pilot in place.

It was somewhat of a shock to everyone when Slipdog slipped out of the ship once free. He jumped out of the ship and foully landed on his feet. He buckled under and fell down on his back when a loud **_CRUNCH _**came out from his right ankle.

"**FRAAAAAK**!" he cried, grabbing his foot.

The other deckhand immediately rushed over and started to get him prompt to life station. They opened his jacket, loosened his boots and any other tight clothing, managed to stabilize his ankle using deck tools, and then carried him out from the deck. Never before had a crewmember had to carry a tired, panicky and squirmy pilot who had just broken his ankle.

Tyrol watched distantly as the deckhands hurriedly carried the screaming pilot, trying to comprehend what had just occurred then.

Then he took a long look at the destroyed Viper, trying to imagine what could have done this. _Cylons, maybe_, he thought.

Then he noticed something; something _crawling_ on the hull of the Viper.

"Cally?" he called out.

"Yes sir?" she said, caught between wanting to help Slipdog and staying with the Chief.

"Get a container. And a reacher pin."

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

"How long?" he asked.

"Three months tops, Commander," replied Cottle on the other end of the phone. "He hurt himself pretty bad, and it's a good thing the deckhands knew what they were doing. The man was pretty beaten up."

Adama nodded. "Alright, thank you again, Dr. Cottle." And he hung up.

Colonel Tigh returned, looking very miffed.

"Colonel," Adama acknowledged him.

"Commander," he said in a slight stiff manner.

Adama could notice it. "What's the matter, Saul? Did Kara say something to you?"

Tigh's jaw was tensed, but he seemed to let it go just then. "Yeah, uh, it was something she said, Commander."

Adama pat his friend on the shoulder. "Don't let it get to you."

Tigh sighed. "I'll try not to."

"Is she and Hotdog out there?"

"Last I saw of them, they were heading for the flight deck. They should be ready to go out."

And soon enough, they could hear Starbuck's voice.

"_Galactica, this is Viper 357. All flight systems are on 'go', and I'm rollin' out._"

"Copy that, Starbuck," replied Dualla. "Watch out for enemy fighters."

"_Yeah, right._" she didn't sound very chirpy.

"_Galactica, Hotdog. This is Viper 1146_; _I'm on doing CAP with Starbuck._"

"Copy that, Hotdog. Watch out for Starbuck.'

"_Copy that, Galactica_."

Two dots appeared on the DRADIS immediately. They were going ahead off the fleet as ordered.

Cheif Tyrol appeared on CIC, and he seemed to be holding a container in his hands. He looked quite perplexed

"Commander," he said, saluting while holding the container under the crook of his other arm..

"As you were," replied Adama. He glanced at the container for a moment, noticing something move in it. He ignored it for now. "How is the Viper?"

"Blown to hell, sir," Tyrol groaned. "It's gone out of commission."

"And how was Slipdog?"

"Other than the severe shock, he was alright," Tyrol said; "That is, before he broke his ankle."

"Now remind me how he broke his ankle…"

"He was panicked and he wanted out of the cockpit badly. When I finally got him out, he jumped out and came down on the deck wrongly."

Adama's mouth twisted. "Hmm."

"I'm sure it has happened before, sir."

"Oh, yes, I know," Adama replied; "back in my day, my wingmate did the same thing, once. But he wasn't under stress and he wasn't suffering shock; he was trying to impress his D.I.; a woman."

"That's, well, pardon me for saying—"

"Stupid, yeah," Adama cut in.

"I would have said foolish."

"That too. Everyone made 'Stupid' his callsign."

Tyrol changed the subject. "Sir, I uh, I happened to have found something on Slipdog's ship. Me and some of the crew had a look at it, and, thought _you_ would like a look at it."

Adama motioned at the container. "You are talking about _that_, correct?"

Tyrol nodded.

Adama motioned to the counter under the DRADIS. Tyrol set the container on the counter, and showed him.

In it was a disfigured, hairy, nasty spider; about the size of a man's hand. Eight hairy legs protruded out from its pale blue body, supporting its hairy, bulbous sac. Two clusters of eyes stared straight out at everyone, and two miniature claws lashed out at the glass that contained it.

Several people in CIC gasped; some female officers started to get distant from the center of CIC.

Adama could not help but stare at it. It was unlike any bug he had seen before.

Tyrol could notice that Adama was curious. "Sir, I've sent Cally with a few DNA samples from it to deliver to Dr. Baltar, see if he could come up with anything."

Ooze trickled out from its body.

"Is that where you got the sample outta the poor bastard?" inquired Tigh, narrowing his eyes at the sight.

"We had a little trouble trying to stop it from moving, and we pinned managed to pin it down," Tyrol said. "But we also used it to get the DNA out of it."

Adama nodded. "Strange little thing… you found it on Slipdog's ship?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you only found one?"

"…yes sir."

Adama looked grim. "Just to be safe, have a team strip the Viper down and see if they can find any more of these."

"Aye, sir," nodded Tyrol.

"Wouldn't want to have one of those nasty suckers across my face in the night, ey?" asserted Tigh.

"More than that," said Adama; "we don't know if it's venomous or dangerous to us."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, sir, but aren't all spiders venomous and dangerous to humans?" inquired Tyrol.

"Yes, but we do not know if _this_ spider is," said Adama. "And as far as I know, we do not have bugs on this ship."

"But how could it have gotten on board?" inquired Tyrol.

"I recall Slipdog saying that these enemy ships looked like spiders," said Adama. "Perhaps they released this bug."

"Can that be possible?"

"If we're dealing with aliens."

"Aliens?" gasped Tigh.

"We _are _in deep space, Colonel," said Adama. "You cannot have deep space journeys without deep space scavengers."

"Aye, sir…" groaned Tigh. He did not like insects.

"Shall I throw it out of the airlock?" asked Tyrol.

Adama took another long look at the thing. He noticed that the bug was glaring at him intently.

"It likes ya, Bill," grinned Tigh, teasingly.

Adama did not chuckle. "I'd throw it out."

Tyrol nodded, a little bit surprised. "Yes, sir…" and he took the container and walked off with it.

Tigh blinked. "Really? You're not going to keep it here for future analysis?"

Adama watched Tyrol walk again. The bug was still glaring at the Commander.

"I trust my instincts, Saul," said Adama. "Mine say get rid of it."

"What makes you think your instincts will help you?"

Adama looked at the Colonel. "You can laugh at me all you want after this… but… it glared at me."

Saul chuckled. "Like I said, it took a liking to ya, Commander."

Adama shrugged. "As unprofessional as it may sound, that thing looked at me funny. Like it was trying to read me… it didn't look right."

Tigh's mouth was twisted to the side, but he accepted the fact. "I understand, Commander."

Adama looked over his shoulder and noticed that some of the female officers were still bugged about the bug. They were whispering to each other.

_Gods, I hope there are no more of those things. Just one of them put off everyone here. Imagine the whole ship..._

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

Gaius was at the computer doing work. He happened to be finishing paperwork, ready to leave and see the President, when the hatch door opened. It was one of the deckhand crew members; he didn't know her name. She happened to be a very cute girl; she had her hair in a pigtail, and had a few bangs that covered her overly adorable face.

"Dr. Baltar?" she said, as though requesting to enter.

Quite perplexed by her unexpected arrival, Gaius blinked a few times. "Oh, uh, yes? D-do come in!" he added the last bit quite unexpectedly.

Gaius and this girl did not know each other very much, and so it was not news to Gaius that the two would probably be distant from each other.

Why did he put this thought into consideration? She was a girl. A _cute_ girl.

"Chief Tyrol asked me to give you this," she came over to Gaius at his desk and revealed a vial of some strange, gooey liquid in her hand.

"Oh, uh, thank you," he said confusedly. "Did your chief care to explain what this _is_?"

"It's an extract."

Gaius was still confused. "From what?"

"Well, didja hear the alarm? We were set at Condition Two for a little while, you know."

Gaius was a little busy during the attack. But, he both wanted to know what she was talking about, and to aside hide the truth that he had a friend in his head.

"Oh, oh, yes, yes, I remember."

"Okay, good."

"…what about it, then?"

"…_okay_. When Slipdog came in, Chief noticed something crawling on the hull of his ship: a big and nasty spider; REALLY nasty."

Gaius blinked.

"A spider?"

"Yeah, VERY nasty. It was very big, very pale, very gross, very hairy—"

"Yesyesyesyesyes, I get your point," Gaius interrupted. He didn't fancy insects much. "So, what's this big spider got to do with this ext— …oooooooh, oh, right, right, this is the spider's extract… so, it's a space insect?"

"Seems like…"

"Well, um, thank you."

Cally put on a smile; the kind where she really did not know how to make things less uncomfortable. "Anytime, Doctor…"

"You didn't keep the spider, perchance, did you?"

Cally scoffed. "Tyrol asked, and Adama allowed him to throw it out the airlock. Besides, I doubt keeping a spider is good luck."

"Oh," Gaius spoke, disappointed. He hated insects, but, he became overly curious over the concept of _space _insects. After all, all insects needed air. He really wanted to get a closer look. Even if it was an insect. "Well, I understand. Orders, right?"

Cally shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

Gaius nervously smiled. The girl was just standing there, as though waiting for him to say something, or for something to happen. She just stood there giving him a throw-away smile.

"Will that be all?" he finally asked.

She thought for a moment. "Yeah." She nodded. "Yeah… well, I hope you get good results, or whatever."

He nodded. "Thank you, um… um… I'm sorry, but, I don't know your name."

She didn't expect that; but it was apparent she felt flattered. "Uh, Cally. Specialist Cally Henderson."

"Oh, oh," he said, nodding communicably. "Very pretty name, if I may say so, for a very pretty girl."

She now began smiling nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I guess it's a nice name. Everyone calls me 'Specialist Lazy.' So, yeah…" and she bit her lip.

"Really?" Gaius asked. "Why do they call you that?"

She paused for a moment. Then she broke out into nervous laughter. "Um, I… I don't know, sir."

Gaius smiled kindly. "Well, at least you managed to get me this vial, you know. Teach those friends of yours to think otherwise for this, huh?" he winked.

Her smile brightened, and she laughed. "I hope so; they're lazier than I am, and I'm a girl!"

"Ah, is that right? I hardly noticed," he said, feigning surprise.

The deckhand was now getting more confident with him, and her smile was less and less nervous. It was obvious she began to like him in return. "What, do you have a problem with your eyes, Doc?"

He blinked as though trying to clear them. "It's the damn weather in here."

She laughed again. "Yeah, uh, see, we don't get weather in here, sir," she pointed out. "We get dust."

"Yes, well, the dust makes it feel like a bloody gas chamber in here…"

She nodded. "Kinda does."

He chuckled. "Reminds me… when I was in school, this friend of mine— his name was Riley Sterncap –used to drop stink pellets into the teacher's desk…"

Already he had caught her attention, she was laughing by the time he spoke about the teacher.

Gaius could not help but flatter himself by amusing this girl. "And, honestly, these are the _worst—_" he stopped, looking at the hatch, his smile fading fast. "Oh!"

Cally looked behind her, and there she was; President Roslin.

"Madame President," Cally spoke, standing straight and attentive.

The President smiled. "Hello. I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

Gaius could not help but feel guilty. Here he had been, all this time, chatting this bird up, and keeping the President waiting. Gaius was, after all, a part of the President's staff, and they needed to discuss important matters on government.

Gaius, rather embarrassed, began reprimanding himself. 'Oh no! No, no, I was merely just sharing a, well, terrible story with the Specialist here. She came by to drop off something, and, uh… I got a little carried away."

Laura flashed a smile. "Oh, well, I apologize, then."

Cally herself began to schold herself. "Oh, no, please, Madame President! It's my fault; I didn't think you both were going to meet and…"

Laura put a calm hand on Cally's shoulder. "It's alright, Specialist, it's alright. But I do need to occupy the punctual doctor's attention for important matters."

Cally nodded, returning to the attitude Gaius first saw her cover under. "Yeah, um… excuse me…" and she left the lab.

Gaius frowned a bit. He really liked her company.

Laura turned to Gaius. "Dr. Baltar."

Gaius nodded his head in greetings. "Madame President."

"Did you hear about the attack on one of our patrols?" she inquired.

_Good lord, I almost forgot about that. Here I have been, chatting with this bird, and—_

"Gaius, you are a total and obnoxious flirt," Six suddenly teased from behind him. Gaius suddenly felt quite nervous.

"Here you were, engaged in a very amusing conversation with a girl, and you forgot all about the importance of her visit," she quipped. He felt her hands grab his shoulders gently, almost like a massage, and could feel her warm breath against the back of his neck. "A _deckhand girl_, of all people…"

Gaius tried to ignore Six. "Yes, um, Madame President; I have."

Laura could notice Gaius seemed disturbed, or distracted. But, as Gaius expected, she disregarded it.

"Do you know what happened?" she inquired, watching his reactions.

"Somewhat," Gaius said. "I wasn't privy to all details, if that's what you expected from me."

Laura nodded. "I see… well, it appeared two colonial Vipers went into a asteroid belt just out of curiosity. Only one of them came out, and was chased by enemy fighters."

Gaius' eyes widened. "Is that so?"

He felt her teeth playfully nibble his earlobe. "But… you seem to like her, don't you?" Six asked, licking him where she bit him.

Gaius's eyes kept fluttering and dancing, trying to hide the utter pleasure he was coping with.

Laura thought this was a really weird man.

"Yes, it is so," she responded, quite firmly.

"Were they Cylons?"

Six gave Gaius a pat on the head. "Oo, Gaius, you are thinking awfully fast today…"

"No, they weren't, actually. The best our surviving pilot could describe with was that they looked like spiders. That is all the information we have right now. Commander Adama has ordered an investigation on the matter. But… I doubt he'll get his answers from an asteroid belt."

Gaius bent his head sideways, looking curious. "Why do you say that, Madame President?"

Six's hand now traversed over his chest. "She seemed interested in you. It would be funny finding out how old she was… by the time you bedded her…"

Gaius felt steamed up by that; it was incredibly unwanted, and so foul. He only liked the girl. He only thought of sex once, and that was before he started telling the story.

Laura paused a moment, looking down a moment and touching her brow lightly. "I can't say for sure. I just doubt he will, Dr. Baltar."

"How about…" Six purred. "You invite her and Thrace sometime? You could get double the truth… and double the fun."

Gaius couldn't take it anymore.

"Madame President!" he said, a little too roughly. He broke away from Six, who merely shrugged to herself.

Laura blinked in shock and seemed overly curious. "What is it!"

"Um…" Gaius started, moving for the hatch door; away from Six. "Let's take this into the conference room. It gets very stuffy in here, and, uh, it becomes very uncomfortable after a while. So, um, let's go, now, shall we?" he cast a nervous glare at Six. She was grinning at him.

Laura looked at the doctor very worriedly. She didn't quite like it when Gaius got so nervous all of a sudden, for no apparent reason. "Alright. I need to sit down, anyway."

"Well, there's the benefit of the conference room, then," Gaius said, laughing very uneasily. He motioned for the door.

Laura took one more look at him before stepping out of the lab. Gaius began to follow suit.

"Gaius," Six halted him. He turned to look at her.

"What?" he asked very quietly. The President was just out of the hall. "You want me to add Boomer to the list? Want to see Cylon/Human sex for your own eyes?" he was really aggravated at her.

"If you really care more about her than me, well, go right ahead then," she said, seeming very upset as well.

He blinked quiet incredulously. "Say what!"

Six rolled her eyes. "Go and talk with your President. Like any other woman, she wants your attention."

Gaius' lips pressed into a firm line.

Six pointed at the vial. "You might want to check that."

Gaius scowled. "I _will_." And he left.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

"Open 'er up, boys," Tyrol said.

"What for?"

"Flushing a spider down the drain," Tyrol said rather playfully; "well, out into space, actually."

"A what!"

"You heard me, Sergeant. Open the damn door, will ya?"

The sergeant shook his head. "Yes, sir."

Tyrol stepped into the incredibly stuffy airlock room. It was designed to flush systems in case of a fire, or to execute traitors and prisoners.

Tyrol remembered that one Cylon had been flushed out into space in this very room.

The container began to shake violently. Tyrol lifted the container to his face. The hideous spider still tried to break free.

He shook his head. "Hope you enjoy the ride."

The spider glared at him. Intently.

Tyrol couldn't help but feel like the bug knew what he just said. Like the bug could understand every word he spoke. He had the sudden feeling the bug was angry at him.

Shaking the thought of it out of himself, Tyrol placed the container down, and then vacated the room. The men shut the door tight.

"Alright, on my command," Tyrol said, holding up a finger.

"Ready, sir," said the sergeant over the key panel.

"Flush—" Tyrol began to say. That was, however, only for a moment.

Immediately, the spider shattered its prison with one smash of its claws. Immediatley, it jumped out and started scattering about the place.

"What the FRAK!" gasped the sergeant.

"That's a tough bug!" chuckled a private.

The bug scaled up the window through which everyone gazed through. It stopped just at about Tyrol's head level, and stared at him. Again.

Tyrol's eyes widened in awe. This insect was clearly communicating something to him. It was actually communicating! But, how was that possible?

"My gods… it likes you, Chief!" laughed the sergeant.

"Shut up," Tyrol said flatly.

**BAM!**

The bug began smacking the glass window.

"**SHIT!"** gasped the sergeant. All the privates instinctively backed away and ducked.

"Flush him!" gasped Tyrol.

The sergeant madly typed on the key panel as a twitch. Within a blink, the blast doors opened and the airlock was open.

The spider was violently pulled towards the open space. But it still clung to the window.

Tyrol could not believe this. This bug was intentionally trying to stay on board.

"What in the hell…!" muttered the sergeant. "It's clung good on the window!"

The spider now started crawling all over the window, as though it denied the forces of space from pulling it out there. It was very persistent, and incredibly unique.

But, what was its purpose, Tyrol thought.

It stopped in one spot. The exact spot it was when it first hit the window. It just stayed there, not moving.

Tyrol took a closer examination, out of curiosity. From underneath, the spider looked like an octopus. And, interestingly enough, on the bottom of the spider's body was what looked like a mouth, and it began to suck on the window.

Behind the mouth, it looked like darkness. Endless darkness…

**BAM! BAM!**

The spider was smacking the window again!

"Holy shit!" the sergeant gasped, backing away from the key panel.

"Gods, it's tough!" exclaimed a private.

Tyrol started backing away. He did not like this situation.

**BAM! BAM!**

It hit again and again. The window was starting to crack.

"Sergeant… close the airlock," Tyrol calmly ordered.

The sergeant cast a glance at him. "What!"

Tyrol glared back at him, looking firm and hard. "I SAID close the damn airlock!"

The sergeant was hesitant. "Aye aye, sir…" he did as told. The airlock closed.

The spider stopped.

Silence. Dead silence.

Everyone waited. Everyone began slowly backing away—

**CRASH!**

The spider broke right through the window!

"HOLY GODS!" cried the sergeant, slamming himself against the wall. The privates hurriedly pulled out their pistols and aimed at it.

Suddenly, Tyrol found himself backing away. First thing he saw was the spider glaring at him. And then he saw nothing. He could feel the spider on his face!

"DON'T SHOOT!" he ordered. The spider was glued to his face, holding him hostage.

The privates nervously pointed their weapons down, but still had them cocked.

The bulbous sac was bouncing against Tyrol's chin and its legs, like claws, dug into his face. The sheer, searing pain he endured was enough to make his scream. But, if he did, he feared that mouth would do something to his face.

Tyrol could also feel its teeth and its miniature claws scratching across his scalp. He could feel the slime ooze down the side of his face; he felt feel the slimey, hairy mass of the insect.

What was it going to do?

Tyrol had to stand there. That was all he could do.

The sergeant approached the privates, watching the spider. They were watching too.

Suddenly, Tyrol could feel a slight pain develop on his forehead. It almost felt like a headache… but it felt more like something was drilling into his head!

The three men could hear Tyrol's muffled screams.

The sergeant whispered something to the two privates, and then two quickly rushed to cover Tyrol on both sides. Now they could shoot it; its bulbous was a definite clear shot.

The pain was still there; but what was happening?

"one…" whispered the sergeant, holding up a finger.

The spider's legs tensed. It was going to make a run.

"Two…"

Before he said three, the spider released Tyrol and flew up into he air. The privates attempted to shoot it down, but were halted when the spider released, in mid-air, streamlines straight at their eyes from it sac, blinding them in its web shots.

Both men were trying to scratch the webby substance off their faces.

The sergeant had his gun out and attempted to shoot the spider. The spider, however, had gotten to a vent duct, broke open its gating, and then disappeared within.

Two words came out from the sergeant's mouth a few seconds later. "Frak me."


	6. Concerns

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

_Concerns_

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii _

"Sergeant…" Lee asked.

Venner looked at him. "What is it, Captain?"

"What's the time?"

Venner looked at his wrist a second. "1215 Hours, sir."

Lee blinked. "Wow… thank you." And then he moved to his bunk and sat at the edge. He stared down at the floor in thought.

_Okay… the fight happened at 2 in the morning… it's _ _12:15__ now… so I've been in here for 10 hours… frak, it seems like a long time… and I didn't do nothing! Gods, Dad is such a prick… and _ _Thrace__, of all people, is let loose. She's still mad at me. I had really upset her by yelling at her. It's just… I thought I could help. I was surprised, shocked, and angry. Most of all, I was tired… I still am. _

He looked over to the other two cells. Hoover was restlessly sleeping in her bunk and Jigger was sitting against the bars with his eyes closed.

_Either meditating or sleeping… or both… but, man, they're stuck in here for thirty days. THIRTY DAYS. Must seem like forever to them… I can hardly stand a week in this frakking place. _

The two Marines had gone on and off to use the bathroom, and had quietly talked to each other to avoid sleep. But it was evident, they were tired. Lee even noticed Kelso walking with his eyes half-closed.

_Poor guys… hate to be _them. _I bet they hate being guards, too. _

_A proper Marine officer is not on board, sadly. All we have is Vera Hadrian, and she's very troublesome. Hey, she accused my father, Chief Tyrol, and Boomer of being Cylons. What a ridiculous thought, my _father _a Cylon… _

_…but anything is possible… however, Hadrian is an ineffective Marine over-all. Venner's more capable of the job than Hadrian. But, she _is _the Master-At-Arms… that's the only proper sheriff we can have right now. _

He noticed Jigger moving in his cell. He stood up to stretch his legs, and then lightly gripped his bowels.

"Hey, uh, Marines?" he asked. The two Marines looked at him.

"Um, can I take a trip to the john, please?" he requested.

"You DO have a toilet in your cell, Private," Kelso answered.

Jigger looked at the back of his cell and, sure enough, saw a toilet in a private nook in the corner.

"You gotta be FRAKKING me…" he uttered, looking back at the marines. "Can't I just use the lavatories?"

"You can only use yours, Jigger. If…" Venner started, and then yawned. "If you have a problem with it, too bad. You're the detainee; you ain't got enough luxuries as free people do."

Jigger shook his head and snorted. "Frak me…" and he stepped into the nook, opened his pants, and soon enough the sound of liquid against metal lightly echoed.

Lee screwed up his face. _Yech, nasty_. _… Damn me, I think I smell it from here!_

Then he laughed to himself. _Kara would have done the same... heh, I know she would've. _

He looked at the wall.

_I hope she's doing alright._

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_

She was happy to be back in her Viper again; nothing like flying in empty space without a whole lot of troubles to bother her. It was like paradise in her cockpit.

"Starbuck, Wheezer," said the Raptor pilot. "How ya doin'?"

"Frakking great."

"Good, good."

Hotdog knew something was wrong. She was still apparently mad from the game; but also at something else. Hotdog had an idea.

"Starbuck, Hotdog," he said.

"Shut the frak up, I'm enjoying space," she said.

"Nah, I wanna talk to ya."

"We're on a CAP, we don't talk: we patrol. Got the picture?"

"Sir, all due respect, shut the frak up; you're still mad.'

"_You're_ making me mad, Hotdog."

"NO, that's not it!"

"It's none of your concern."

"Tell me, please!"

"NO!"

Radio silence. Hotdog gave up, grumbling to himself and glaring at the asteroid belt.

Kara had her nose flared and her jaw tensed. She was in fact very mad and upset. But she did not want to have someone like Hotdog know. She was mad for her own reasons, and she did not give a frak if anyone cared.

She had to admit, though… Hotdog seemed concerned.

Hotdog made a scoff. "Well, CAG," he said. "Looks like we're going to be out here for a while. The belt looks really big."

The Raptor pilot was playing silent.

Kara closed her eyes. _Gods, why did I get stuck with Hotdog? What did I do to deserve this? I just want to get this damn patrol done and get some sleep. Sleep… slee… l— no, shut up, Kara. _

She shook herself mentally. "How are the scans, Wheezer?"

"Nothing so far."

She nodded. Great. Nothing. "Good." She muttered.

They cruised for a long while. The engines' noises were the only thing audible to everyone's ears. The sound of empty space around their ships, the silence of what lay ahead of them. It was an incredible thing; Space. It was completely of all air, and could take the life of a person within one breath.

It was a deadly silence.

Kara admitted she felt touched Hotdog was curious; maybe even worried. Maybe he should know.

"Hotdog," she said, drifting from the Raptor a bit.

As though understanding her drift, the Raptor silenced his com. Frequencies between Thrace and Constanza.

Hotdog hovered by her side. "Yeah, boss?'

She hesitated. She was going to tell him, but she wanted to tell it the right way; not to give him ideas but to explain enough.

"I _am_ mad," she said, admitting it. "Like an idiot, I…" she was remembering Lee's words. "Like a stupid idiot, I hosted a triad game in the middle of the night; where everyone was tired and needed sleep. It's my fault I started it, and it's my fault I didn't end it…" she was frowning. It was hard for a person to admit their faults to another person; especially for Starbuck.

Hotdog just sat and listened. "Yeah?"

Kara nodded. "Yeah. I guess you can say I, uh, was absent minded. I told you you should've had the mindspace for the game… well, to be honest, I wasn't in the right mindspace myself… I… I can't really explain myself, can I?"

Hotdog cleared his throat gently. "With all due respect, we all have been bored over the last two weeks. No Cylons; lost in space… we've had months without the Cylons, but… it's just something does not feel right."

"Being lost in space never feels right," Kara countered.

"Neither does having survived a horrible attack," said Hotdog.

"Oh yeah…" Kara said, remembering that incident; "that was a bad time."

"It shouldn't surprise us that we're not just bored," said Hotdog. "We were hit hard. We lost a lot of good men."

Kara couldn't help but look at Hotdog in his cockpit. This was the first time he ever seemed philosophical to anyone. She could tell, though, he himself was reluctant to talk about himself.

She grinned. "Not getting soft on me, are you, Hotdog?" she asked, wanting to see how he would react.

Sure enough, he blinked, and then shook his head. "I, uh, well, just personal thought. Just me babbling, Starbuck."

She smiled. "Thank you, Hotdog."

Hotdog looked at her. He looked at her real long… "You are strange, sir." He couldn't understand Starbuck's motive for this conversation, now.

She laughed. "Thank the Gods."

Kara and Hotdog drifted back to the Raptor. Wheezer opened up the frequencies again.

"Anything new, Wheezer?"

"Nope; still nothing."

'Well, we'll keep looking."

"Till when, Starbuck?"

"Till we find something. Come on, you're not giving up on our adventure, are we?"

"Pfft, me give up? You're crazy, Starbuck."

She laughed evilly. "Yes, I know."

_We _are _on an adventure, aren't we? _She thought to herself. _Yes, yes, we are. It's going to be a fun one; I can feel it. _

_I only wish Lee could've been here. _

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii _

"How is he?" a voice from behind him asked.

Dr. Cottle, the old Major Doctor, looked over his shoulder and noticed a young woman, an ensign, standing nearby. She was a young and pretty woman, and she looked really worried.

"He's alright," he said; "he's just asleep, right now. He's recovering from shock. He had a lot of hell to deal with."

She nodded. "So I've heard. Um, my name is Mariam. I'm his girlfriend."

"Ahh, yes," Cottle said, nodding his head. "Well, I don't think he'd mind your company even in his unconscious state."

She smiled. "Thank you, sir. I'd like to be with him."

Cottle motioned an over to a chair near the bed. "Go right ahead."

She moved over to the chair, and she lightly grasped Slipdog's hand.

Dr. Cottle made his way to another patient in Life Station. This man was a soldier who got heavily injured during the one-on-one fight with a Cylon, without any weapons. The man had lost all his weapons and was up against a Cylon which had its weapons discarded. He fought until he lost an arm and an eye, and was close to death. Some people thought he wasn't going to survive.

Cottle checked his pulse. No… no… nothing… he was gone.

Grimly, he put a hand on the patient's bandaged forehead. "Go in peace, young soldier. You did a brave job out there. Only wish you stayed around to show for it." And then sadly pulled the covers over his face.

_Poor man… _

Two people had come into Life Station just then. Dr. Cottle looked over to see them, quite surprised to see that they were a Private and Chief Tyrol. Tyrol's forehead was covered by a heavily bloodied bandaged, and was using the private as support.

Dr. Cottle blinked at the sight of the bloodied forehead

A nurse came to greet them, seeing that Tyrol's head was in need of care.

"Oh my god!" she gasped. "Chief, what happened?"

Tyrol tried to answer, but all that came out were pained murmurs and uncontrolled stammering. His eyes began twitching as well.

The Private answered very hastily. "We, uh, well, the Chief here needs help STAT!"

Dr. Cottle rushed over to them. He was awfully curious about what happened. He probably hurt himself during some deckwork, but Dr. Cottle wanted to be sure.

The nurse was about to escort them to a bed when Dr. Cottle approached them.

"What happened?" Dr. Cottle said, urging the nurse to continue leading Tyrol to a bed.

"I don't know!" she said; "they won't tell me!"

Dr. Cottle glanced upon Tyrol for a second, and then to the Private. "What's going on, Sergeant?"

"Sir!" he said, recognizing the Major. With the help of a nurse, he set Tyrol down on the bed. The chief began humming in pain as he started rubbing around the center of his forehead.

"What happened?" repeated the major firmly.

The Private looked at him complexly. "Um, sir, the explanation would require a while of explaining."

"Give me the truth, Private; I don't give a damn about time. Gimme your short version if you have to!" demanded the Major. The Chief was in dire need of attention. The nurse was trying to calm him down, trying to see what was underneath the bandage.

The Private gulped. "Sir, we were going to flush a spider we had found on Slipdog's ship out into space, when it broke out and attacked the Chief. We tried—another Private, Sergeant Blackburn and myself—to get it off, but when we tried shooting it, it shot us in the eyes with a web-like substance and escaped into the air ducts. When we got the webs off us, we discovered that…" he motioned to Tyrol.

Dr. Cottle moved the Nurse out of the way and stood before Tyrol. Tyrol's eyes were closed in pain.

"Chief," he said softly. "Chief?"

Tyrol looked at him.

"Chief, can you speak?" he asked, hoping he could.

Tyrol's eyes shut closed in pain for a moment, and then he shook his head.

"Now, just out of medical curiosity, was the bandage applied beforehand?" asked Cottle.

Tyrol, again, shook his head.

"Alright," Cottle nodded. Now he know what to do next. "I'm going to remove the bandage— no, no, don't worry Tyrol, don't worry. I'm going to remove the bandage and see what we've got here…"

Tyrol was hesitant for a moment, and then he removed his hand and nodded. He waited for Cottle to do so.

Cottle pulled on a pair of protective gloves and began unraveling the bloodied cloth. It seemed to be wrapped around numerous times.

_Gods, what the hell? _

"Private," Cottle said, clearing his throat, as he was unraveling the Chief. "Do finish what you were talking about… about what you saw."

"Sir, Tyrol had his hand on his forehead," said the Private; "and when we forced his hand away…"

Cottle had unraveled the last layer and revealed the Chief's problem. It froze Cottle.

His entire head was covered in blood, but underneath the blood were very multiple groups of small bumps and bulges. Some were big, while some were very miniscule. But they looked very bad.

One could think it was acne; but Cottle had studied the processes of how spiders laid their eggs in their prey.

"Nurse, quickly," Cottle said off the start; "go get the surgery room prepared."

The nurse's eyes were wide in awe. "Yes sir…!" and rushed off.

The Private stared at the bulges. "Why surgery?"

"The chief here," said Cottle, getting up and fetching something to stop the bleeding and also get himself prepared for surgery; "has eggs implanted in his forehead.'

The Private's jaw dropped. "Gods!"

"Luckily, the eggs did not reach the skull, so the Chief is safe. HOWEVER, if we want the Chief to stay in good order and to keep the ship free of pests, we are going to have to remove the eggs."

"You… you can do that?" the Private inquired; it was obvious his stomach felt like it was turning upside down.

"You can see the eggs, right?" the Doctor rhetorically asked.

"Yes, but—"

"The eggs are right in the surface," said the doctor. "It's apparent your spider had only time to insert the eggs into his pores. So, we're going to have to perform a very complicated procedure of popping those eggs and then clearing the pores."

The Private felt like barfing. "Um… wow…"

The Doctor nodded. "Yeah. Like acne, you know?" and patted him on the back. "Just stay with the Chief until I come back."

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii _

Boomer had the Raptor hover right outside the asteroid belt as the Vipers got the communications frequencies secured and had the inflight cameras set on 'filming'. The two pilots, Do and Smith, had their Vipers equipped with an all-capturing visual video camera to show everyone on Galactica what they were seeing. The footage was coming in live to Galactica.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii _

And the footage came clear.

"Do, Smith," said Dualla; "we have footage. Repeated, we have footage."

Adama watched the screen carefully, not meaning to miss a single shot.

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii _

"Copy that, Galactica," replied Do. "We are about to make our investigation of the mysterious asteroid belt. If we're lucky we can find Zapper's ship and give a proper burial."

"Don't count on that," cut in Boomer. "This being an asteroid field, we may never find his ship."

Do reluctantly sighed. "Never mind on that then. We are going to take an overhead look. Going in is too dangers. Do out."

"_Copy that, Do. Be careful._"

With that, the three ships positioned their ships until they were over the belt. They saw that it stretched on for what seemed to be forever and around nothing in particular. It was like the belt was orbiting an invisible force.

"Gods, that's huge," said Smith almost breathlessly.

The width of the belt was about as huge as a city; really huge. It could be hiding many things in there.

"Enough chatter, let's move," said Boomer.

"Copy that, Boomer. Let's go."

They began their way over the belt, staying well away from the reach of any asteroid within asteroid yet close enough to catch footage on camera. They could zoom in and out to see between asteroids that hang together or well past an asteroid that was in the way.

The three ships had only been searching for a few minutes (it was ten minutes until it would be noon) before the two Vipers discovered that their equipment started to malfunction or get fuzzed up.

The Raptor was more then ten meters away from the two Vipers, who were closer to the belt; the systems on that ship were functioning.

"Boomer, I'm getting a strange reaction from my electronics here," said Do.

"Mine too."

Racetrack, the Electronic Countermeasures Officer, began a scan over the area to see if there were any anti-electronics going around.

"Yeah, I can see you both are a little fuzzy," said Racetrack. "Could be interference from the asteroids."

"Yeah, I guess," said Do. "Unless— what the frak? Look at your DRADISes; do you see it?"

Smith, Racetrack, and Boomer checked their DRADIS consoles. "No, I don't see anything," the Raptor crew said.

"I see it!" said Smith. "Looks like a skull's face."

"What!" exclaimed Racetrack.

"Yeah, and it seems to be disruptive my camera feed," said Do. "Couldja please find a way to get rid of it, please, Racetrack?"

"I'll _try_," replied Racetrack very irritably. "It's not like I'm a wizard to provide instant pleasure, you know."

"We'll have to look into that later, Racetrack," joked Smith.

"Shut the frak up, Knockers."

"Nah, I'll letcha do that when we get back to the Galactica."

"Guys, shut the chatter," insisted Boomer. "Getting anything Racetrack?"

"I'm trying to begin!"

"Guys, be quiet, you hear?"

"Yes, sir."

A few moments of silence for everyone while Racetrack searched for a possible solution to the problem.

"Got it!" she exclaimed.

"Wait, it's gone," said Smith.

"What?"

"The face, it's gone."

"What do you frakking mean it's gone!" exclaimed Boomer.

"It's just gone, sir! Like gas from an old fart in the wind!"

"Don't ever use that terminology against."

"But seriously it's gone," said Do. "Everything's functioning. You said you found something, Racetrack?"

"Yeah, it looks like a beacon."

"Where?"

"Somewhere in Sector N5. I'll transmit the location to your DRADIS."

"Ahh, I see it. Do you predict any danger?"

"Not really," said Boomer.

"Boomer, Smith, let's be distant from the belt now," Do said. The ships widened the distance between them and the belt. "We don't know what we're up against; it could be anything. All we know is that it tore up Slipdog pretty bad. So let's check it out, and see what we get."

"Yes, sir."

And they hovered on over to where the beacon was coming from. It was unlike anything they expected.

…

"It's a giant asteroid, sir," replied Do.

"_Yes, I can see that clearly_," Adama replied, thoughtfully.

Racetrack kept going over the data again and again. The beacon was coming from the asteroid alright.

The asteroid was larger than the Galactica, or even four Battlestars put together. It looked like a giant, brown, rocky egg. Evidently there were holes in it; like little holes to crawl into.

"My Gods…" muttered Boomer. "Waddya think Slipdog and Zapper found this?"

"_Who knows, Lieutenant_," said the Commander. "_But if a beacon is coming out from the asteroid, it's possible you may have some kind of electronic presence nearby._"

"Do you think it could be the enemy?" asked Smith.

"_We won't know until we investigate_."

"So, we're going in?" asked Do.

"_Be careful._"

"Copy that, Galactica," said Do.

"So, we're going in…" echoed Smith.

"Hang in there, Smith, stand fast," said Do. "Alright, Boomer, Racetrack, got us covered?"

"No electronics— other than the beacon," said Boomer. "So you're probably alright."

"Don't be too certain, boys," said Racetrack. "Something might pop outta that hole and eat ya good."

"Thanks for that lovely image, Lieutenant…" grumbled Smith.

Racetrack grinned. "Anytime, Knockers."

"Like the Commander said," said Boomer; "Who knows. We can't be sure the enemy is Cylon or not. If it's Cylon, we know how to deal with it. If not, we need to be extra careful."

"Copy that, Boomer," said Do. "Smith and I will need you to follow behind us, but not too close; just close enough to check up on us and insure we're alright. Smith, we're using our Mark One Eyeballs."

"Yes sir."

Do checked a few more things in his head. "Alright, we ready?"

"Whenever you are, Do," said Boomer.

"Smith, linger behind a bit. The holes may not be big enough for us to fit in or maneuver. I'll go ahead and check one first."

"Yes sir."

"Let's move in."

The Vipers moved in to the asteroid. As they got close, Smith hung back with Boomer. Do carefully exercised himself in front of the mouth of a hole that was big enough to fit him. The lights on the tips of his Viper Mark VII's wings, the insides were lit.

"Woah…" he uttered.

"What do you see, Do?" asked Smith.

"Wow, I saw little things scurry in all directions for a second," said Do.

"what do you mean?"

"They looked like spiders. But don't worry; they're all in little nooks. Besides, they're too small to harm the ship. Don't worry," said Do. And he started to move in.

"Please, just stop NOW, Do," said Boomer; "we've already had one pilot kill himself for being nosey. Take it easy, Do.'

Do's sigh came apparent on the com. "You're right." he backed up a bit. "So far… I don't see anything. Then again, I probably _will_ as I progress into the asteroid."

"Be careful, sir," said Racetrack.

"You got it," he replied. He gradually moved into the hole at a slow rate, getting a chance to look at his surroundings; see if everything was alright. So far, it was all rock. Those spiders were no where to be seen.

Smith waited expectantly, hovering several meters away from Boomer on her port.

"Hey, Knockers," Boomer said, looking over to port. "How ya doin'?"

"Doin' alright, Boomer," he replied, sounding very sure of himself. "Just worried for ole Slipdog. His girlfriend is probably worried sick about him."

"She probably is," Boomer said, dreading to hear that word 'girlfriend'. Racetrack glanced at her a bit before looking back on her console.

"A nice girl," said Smith. "Very pretty, very intelligent. From the _Enkidu_; Slipdog met her while doing ship searches for probable Cylon nukes. Both of 'em hit it off well."

"Did they, huh?" Boomer said, urging him to stop the conversation.

"Yeah, they did," he said, stopping the conversation at last.

"How's everything in there, Do?" asked Racetrack.

"It's pretty good in here," he replied.

Smith laughed. "You're frakking me, right?"

"What, what do you mean?"

"You sound like it's cozy in there."

"Nah I don't, smart ass; I meant I don't see anything. Space bugs probably just out for a cruise on this here rock. Don't see anything out of the blue— wait, I think I see…"

Everyone's hearts started pumping. "What!" said Boomer.

"…nah, it's nothing. Just a rock with a face."

"A rock with a face?" repeated Boomer incredulously

"Yeah, a rock with a face." Do's Viper was backing out of the hole.

Everyone then settled.

"You bastard," muttered Boomer.

"What?"

"You got us excited for a moment!"

"Not _my _fault, now! Is it?" he asked.

"You have to admit it to her, she's right, boss," said Smith.

"Yeah, admit it like you're crying and wanting forgiveness," growled Boomer.

"Frak you, Boomer!" laughed Do.

"Hey, give it up to the lady, boys," said Racetrack.

"So say we all, girl!" Boomer agreed.

"Heh, crazy girls," muttered Do.

"What did you say?" quipped Boomer.

"Nothing _you_ wanted to hear, Boomer."

"Yeah, right, whatever. How are the cameras?"

"Doing good," said Do.

"Fine over here," said Smith.

Racetrack looked over her console. "No electronic frequencies. In fact… the beacons gone."

"What?" Do said in a refutable manner.

"Hey, don't get angry at _me_; I didn't do anything, sirs," Racetrack defended herself.

"Scan the area again," he said.

"Already on it," Racetrack did a few buttons here and there, a few types: nothing. "Got nothing."

Smith looked over at Do's Viper and laughed. "Hey, Do, you got a few critters on your Viper."

Sure enough, Do had a swarm of blue, nasty looking spiders crawling all over his ship.

Do sighed. "Gods damnit…"

Boomer laughed again. "Got some new friends, Do!"

"Well, I ain't takin' em home to say hey to momma," grumbled Do, shaking his Viper. "Get off me, you little buggers!"

Suddenly, one of the spiders got on the canopy and started smacking it.

"SHIIIIIT!" gasped Do, shaking the Viper even harder.

Smith gasped. "DO!"

Boomer watched. "Holy frak, it's trying to break into the cockpit!"

"It's strong, too!" said Do.

Two more spiders began banging on the canopy, and even on the hull. They were ferocious looking things.

"Gods, someone help me! I can't shake 'em off!" howled Do.

"_Do, Adama, what is going on there?_" the Commander's voice came through the com.

"Sir! I'm being attacked by some spiders out from the asteroid," reported Do. "They are trying to break into the cockpit, and they look powerful."

"_Spiders you say?_"

"Yes, sir."

A slight pause.

"_Alright. Get those spiders off for your Lieutenant, you hear?_"

"Yes sir! I'm working on it!"

Smith was panicking in his cockpit. "Shit, man, we do we do!"

"Shoot the damn things!"

"NO!" shouted Boomer. "Don't even THINK about it, Smith. Just because Starbuck can get away with it, doesn't mean you get to as well."

"Speaking of Starbuck, where the frak is she?"

"DOESN'T MATTER!" growled Do. The spiders were getting more intense. "Think of the situation, boy!"

"We can't shoot 'em, we can't rub 'em off," Racetrack grumbled. "we could send a shortwave frequency to shock the Viper, and then have someone come over to tow Do back—"

"WHAT THE FRAK?" screamed Do.

Smith came over to Do, and just as he reached the ship, he stuck his nose up so that the turbo thrusters in the back of his Viper were emitting their blue flames on Do's ship.

"What the hell is he doing!" gasped Racetrack, rushing to the front of the Raptor and watching.

The spiders could see the flames coming down on them, and immediately left the ship, jumping onto another asteroid. The ones on the cockpit followed suit.

Smith pulled out and away from Do's ship. "You alright, Sir?"

Do was completely stunned. "Ho… ly… Frak… king… gods!"

"Chaisuth," gasped Racetrack; "_what_ gave you that idea, Knockers?"

"I dunno," said Smith; "everyone was talking too much."

"Well, you burned my ship," grumbled Do; the hull of his ship was covered in black torch marks. "I hope you're happy."

"As long as you are happy to be alive, Lieutenant," said Smith.

Do sighed. "I am." He looked over at the Raptor. "Any more electronic frequencies?"

Racetrack blanked for a second. "Oh! Oh, oh, right…" she moved up to her console, and gasped. "HOLY FRAK!"

"What!" gasped Boomer.

"Oh frak, oh frak…" muttered Racetrack.

"Is something wrong?" Do nervously asked.

"Look over the asteroid!"

Everyone's eyes traced over to the top of the asteroid.

"Break off! Break off!" Do ordered; "let's get back to the ship!"

_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_


End file.
